^r^^/ 


i 


p* 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

IN  MEMORY  OF 

James  J,  McBride 

PRESENTED  BY 


Margaret  McBride 


^^-.  ^ 


•V 


y60 


BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR. 


AN  INLAND  VOYAGE. 

EDINBURGH. 

TRAVELS  WITH   A   DONKEY. 

VIRGINinUS  PUERISQUE. 

FAMILIAR  STUDIES  OF  MEN   AND   BOOKS. 

NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS. 

TREASURE  ISLAND. 

THE  SILVERADO  SQUATTERS. 

A  CHILD'S  GARDEN   OF  VERSES. 

PRINCE  OTTO. 

STRANGE  CASE  OF  DR.  JEKYLL  AND  MR.  HYDE. 

(WITH  NliS.  STEVENSON.) 
MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS  :  The  Dynamitek. 


t3>c'SHETL>ND 
V'    ISLANDS 


1 

■ 

/ 

'I 

I 

I 

t 

I 


SCALE  or  MILES 

Hi  100 


n 


lloa 
^.CLACKMANNAN 


tC 


KIDNAPPED: 


BEING 


flUmoirs   of  tljc  ^.iiricnturcs   of   Daniii   Calfour 

IX    THE   YEAR   1751: 


Hoio  he  iras  Kidnapped  and  Cast  aicay ;  his  Sufferings  in  a  Desert 
Isle;  his  Journey  in  the  Wild  Highlands ;  his  acquaintance  rrith  Alan 
Breck  Stewart  and  other  notorious  Highland  Jacobites;  ■with  all  that 
he  Suffered  at  the  hands  of  his  Uncle,  Ehexezeu  Balfour  of  Soaws, 

falsely  so-called : 


mXxiXXtn  l)|}  ?t^imsclf. 


and  now  set  forth  by 


ROBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON. 


NEW    YORK: 

CHARLES   SCRIBNEE'S   SONS. 

1886. 

[AU  rights  reserued.] 


I'ress  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York. 


5484 
1  QBCpo. 


DEDICATION. 

My  dear  Charles  Baxter, 

If  you  ever  read  this  tale,  you  will  likely  ask  yourself 
more  questions  than  I  should  care  to  answer  :  as,  for 
instance,  how  the  Appin  murder  has  come  to  fall  in  the 
year  1751,  how  the  Torran  rocks  have  crept  so  near 
to  Earraid,  or  wiiy  the  printed  trial  is  silent  as  to  all 
that  touches  David  Balfour.  These  are  nuts  beyond 
my  ability  to  break.  But  if  you  tried  me  on  the  point 
of  Alan's  guilt  or  innocence,  I  think  I  could  defend  the 
reading  of  the  text.  To  this  day,  you  will  find  the  tra- 
dition of  Appin  clear  in  Alan's  favour.  If  you  inquire, 
you  may  even  liear  that  the  descendants  of  "  the  other 
man  "  who  fired  the  shot  are  in  the  country  to  this  day. 
But  that  other  man's  name,  inquire  as  you  please,  you 
shall  not  hear ;  for  the  Highlander  values  a  secret  for 
itself  and  for  the  congenial  exercise  of  keeping  it.  I 
might  go  on  for  long  to  justify  one  point  and  own 
another  indefensible  ;  it  is  more  honest  to  confess  at 
once  how  little  T  am  touched  by  the  desire  of  accuracy. 

1042224 


Vi  DEDICATION. 

TIlis  is  no  furniture  for  the  scholar's  library,  but  ii  book 
for  the  winter  evening  school-room  when  the  tasks  are 
over  and  the  hour  for  bed  draws  near  ;  and  honest  Alan, 
who  was  a  grim  old  fire-eater  in  his  day,  has  in  this  new 
avatar  no  more  desperate  purpose  than  to  steal  some 
young  gentleman's  attention  from  his  Ovid,  carry  him 
awhile  into  the  Highlands  and  the  last  century,  and 
pack  him  to  bed  with  some  engaging  images  to  mingle 
with  his  dreams. 

As  for  you,  my  dear  Charles,  I  do  not  even  ask  you 
to  like  the  talc.  But  perhaps  when  he  is  older,  your  son 
will  ;  he  may  then  be  pleased  to  find  his  father's  name 
on  the  fly-leaf;  and  in  the  meanwhile  it  pleases  me  to 
set  it  there,  in  memory  of  many  days  that  were  happy 
and  some  (now  perhaps  as  pleasant  to  remember)  that 
were  sad.  If  it  is  strange  for  me  to  look  back  from  a 
distance  both  in  time  and  space  on  these  bygone  adven- 
tures of  our  youth,  it  must  be  stranger  for  3'ou  who 
tread  the  same  streets — who  may  to-morrow  open  the 
door  of  the  old  Speculative,  where  we  begin  to  rank  with 
Scott  and  Robert  Emmet  and  the  beloved  and  inglorious 
Maclean — or  may  pass  the  corner  of  the  close  where  that 
great  society,  the  L.  J.  R.,  iield  its  meetings  and  drank 
its  beer,  sitting  in  the  seats  of  Burns  and  his  compan- 
ions.    I  think  I  see  you,  moving  there  by   plain   day- 


DEDICATION.  Vll 

light,  beholding  with  your  natural  eyes  those  places  that 

have  now  become  for  your  companion  a  part  of  the 

scenery  of  dreams.     How,  in  the  intervals  of  present 

business,  the  past  must  echo  in  your  memory  !     Let  it 

not  echo   often  without  some   kind   thoughts  of  your 

friend. 

R.  L.  S. 

Skerryvore, 

Bournemouth. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER   I. 

I   SET  OFF  ON   MY  JOURNET  TO    THE  HoUSE   OF   ShAWS 1 

CHAPTER   II. 
I  COME  TO  AiY  Journey's  End 8 

CHAPTER  III. 
I  MAKE  Acquaintance  with  my  Unci.e IG 

CHAPTER  IV. 
I  run  a  great  Danger  in  the  House  of  Shaws  27 

CHAPTER  V. 
I  GO  TO  THE  Queen's  Ferry o9 

CHAPTER  VI. 
What  befell  at  the  Queen's  Ferry 49 

CHAPTER  VII. 
I  GO  TO  Sea  in  the  Brig  "Covenant"  of  Dysart 57 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Round-House 68 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Man  with  the  Belt  op  Gold 76 


X  CONTENTS. 

TACiE 

CHAPTER   X. 

The  Siege  op  the  Round  House 90 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Captain  knuckles  under 100 

CHAPTER    Xll. 

1   UEAK  OF  THE   ReD  FOX 107 

CHAPTER   Xni. 
The  Loss  of  the  Brig 120 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

The  Islet 129 

CHAPTER    XV. 

The  Lad  with  the  Silver  Button  :  Through  the  Isle 
OF  Mull 143 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
The  Lad  with  the  Silver  Button  :    Across  Morven  . .  154 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
The  Death  of  the  Red  Fox 165 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
I  Talk  with  Alan  in  the  Wood  of  Lettermore 174 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
The  House  of  Fear 186 

CHAPTER   XX. 
The  Flight  in  the  Heather  :  The  Rocks 196 

CHAPTER   XXI. 
The  Flight  in  the  Heather  :  The  Heugh  of  Corryna- 


kiegh. 


209 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
The  Flight  in  the  Heather  :    The  Muir 220 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
Cluny's  Cage 231 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 
The  Flight  in  the  Heather  :  The  Quarrel 244 

CHAPTER    XXV. 
In  Balquidder 259 

CHAPTER   XXVI. 
We  pass  the  Forth 270 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
I  come  to  Mr.  Rankeillor 286 

CHAPTER   XXVIIT. 
I  go  in  Quest  of  my  Fortune 298 

CHAPTER    XXIX. 
I  come  into  my  Kingdom 309 

CHAPTER   XXX. 
Good  BYE  ! ^^^^ 


Kidnapped  : 


BEING 


MEMOIRS   OF  THE  ADVENTURES   OF   DAVID 
BALFOUR  m  THE   YEAR  1751. 


CHAPTER   I. 

I   SET  OFF  UPON  MY  JOURNEY  TO   THE  HOUSE  OF  SHAWS. 

I  WILL  begin  the  story  of  my  adventures  with  a  cer- 
tain morning  early  in  the  month  of  June,  the  year  of 
grace  1751,  when  I  took  the  key  for  the  last  time  out  of 
the  door  of  my  father's  house.  The  sun  began  to  shine 
upon  the  summit  of  the  hills  as  I  went  down  the  road  ; 
and  by  the  time  I  had  come  as  far  as  the  manse,  the 
blackbirds  were  whistling  in  the  garden  lilacs,  and  the 
mist  that  hung  around  the  valley  in  the  time  of  the 
dawn  was  beginning  to  arise  and  die  away. 

Mr.  Campbell,  the  minister  of  Essendean,  was  wait- 
ing for  me  by  the  garden  gate,  good  man  !  He  asked 
me  if  I  had  breakfasted  ;  and  hearing  that  I  lacked  for 


2  KIDNAPPED. 

notliing,  he  took  my  hiind  in  l)otli  of  his,  and  clapped  it 
kindly  under  his  arm. 

"  Well,  Davie  lad,"  said  he,  ''I  Avill  go  with  you  as 
far  as  the  ford,  to  set  you  on  the  way." 

And  we  began  to  walk  forward  in  silence. 

*'  Are  ye  sorry  to  leave  Esscndean  ?  "  said  he,  after  a 
while, 

"Why,  sir,"  sard  I,  "if  I  knew  where  I  was  going, 
or  what  was  likely  to  become  of  me,  I  would  tell  you 
candidly.  Essendean  is  a  good  place  indeed,  and  I  have 
been  very  happy  there  ;  but  then  I  have  never  been  any- 
where else.  My  father  and  mother,  since  they  are  both 
dead,  I  shall  be  no  nearer  to  in  Essendean  than  in  the 
Kingdom  of  Hungary ;  and  to  speak  t^uth,  if  I  thought 
I  had  a  chance  to  better  myself  where  I  was  going,  1 
would  go  with  a  good  will." 

"Ay?"  said  Mr.  Campbell.  "Very  well,  Davie. 
Then  it  behoves  me  to  tell  your  fortune ;  or  so  far  as  I 
may.  When  your  mother  was  gone,  and  your  father 
(the  worthy.  Christian  man)  began  to  sicken  for  his  end, 
he  gave  me  in  charge  a  certain  letter,  which  he  said  was 
your  inheritance.  'So  soon,'  says  he,  'as  I  am  gone, 
and  the  house  is  redd  up  and  the  gear  disposed  of  '  (all 
which,  Davie,  hath  been  done)  '  give  my  boy  this 
letter  into  his  hand,  and  start  him  off  to  the  house  of 
Shaws,  not  far  from  Cramond.  That  is  the  place  I  came 
from,'  he  said,  'and  it's  where  it  befits  that  my  boy 
should  return.     He  is  a  steady  lad,'  your  father  said, 


KIDNAPPED.  3 

'aud  a  canny  goer  ;  and  I  doubt  not  he  will  come  safe, 
and  be  well  liked  where  he  goes.' " 

"  The  house  of  Shaws  !  "  I  cried.     "  What  had  my 
poor  father  to  do  with  the  house  of  Shaws  ?" 

*' Nay,"  said  Mr.  Campbell,  ''who  can  tell  that  for 
a  surety  ?  But  the  name  of  that  family,  Davie  boy,  is 
the  name  you  bear — Balfours  of  Shaws  :  an  ancient, 
honest,  reputable  house,  peradventure  in  these  latter 
days  decayed.  Your  father,  too,  was  a  man  of  learning 
as  befitted  his  position  ;  no  man  more  plausibly  con- 
ducted school  ;  nor  had  he  the  manner  or  the  speech  of 
a  common  dominie  ;  but  (as  ye  will  yourself  remember) 
I  took  aye  a  pleasure  to  have  him  to  the  manse  to  meet 
the  gentry  ;  and  those  of  my  own  house,  Campbell  of 
Kilreunet,  Campbell  of  Duns  wire,  Campbell  of  Minch, 
and  others,  all  well-kenned  gentlemen,  had  pleasure  in 
his  society.  Lastly,  to  put  all  the  elements  of  this 
affair  before  you,  here  is  the  testamentary  letter  itself, 
superscrived  by  the  own  hand  of  our  departed  brother." 

He  gave  me  the  letter,  which  was  addressed  in  these 
words  :  ''To  the  hands  of  Ebenezer  Balfour,  Esquire,  of 
Shaws,  in  his  house  of  Shaws,  these  will  be  delivered 
by  my  son,  David  Balfour."  My  heart  was  beating 
hard  at  this  great  prospect  aiow  suddenly  opening  before 
a  lad  of  sixteen  years  of  age,  the  son  of  a  poor  country 
dominie  in  the  Forest  of  Ettrick. 

"Mr.  Campbell,"  I  stammered,  "and  if  you  were  in 
my  shoes,  would  you  go  ?  " 


4  KIDNAPPED. 

*'0f  a  surety,"  said  the  minister,  "that  would  I, 
and  without  pause.  A  pretty  lad  like  you  should  get  to 
Cramond  (which  is  near  in  by  Edinburgh)  in  two  days 
of  walk.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  your 
high  relations  (as  I  cannot  but  suppose  them  to  be  sonie- 
wluit  of  your  blood)  should  put  you  to  the  door,  ye  can 
but  walk  the  two  days  back  again  and  risp  at  the  manse 
door.  But  I  would  rather  hope  that  ye  shall  be  well 
received,  as  your  poor  father  forecast  for  you,  and  for 
anything  that  I  ken,  come  to  be  a  great  man  in  time. 
And  here,  Davie  laddie,"  he  resumed,  "  it  lies  near  upon 
my  conscience  to  improve  this  j)arting,  and  set  you  on 
the  right  guard  against  the  dangers  of  the  world." 

Here  he  cast  about  for  a  comfortable  seat,  lighted 
on  a  big  bonlder  under  a  birch  l)y  the  trackside,  sate 
down  upon  it  with  a  very  long,  serious  upper  lip,  and 
the  sun  now  shining  in  upon  us  between  two  peaks,  put 
his  pocket-handkerchief  over  his  cocked  hat  to  shelter 
him.  There,  then,  with  uplifted  forefinger,  he  first  put 
me  on  my  guard  against  a  considerable  number  of 
heresies,  to  which  I  had  no  temptation,  and  urged  upon 
me  to  be  instant  in  my  prayers  and  reading  of  the 
Bible.  That  done,  he  drew  a  picture  of  the  great  house 
that  I  was  bound  to,  and  how  I  should  conduct  myself 
with  its  inhabitants. 

*' Be  soople,  Davie,  in  things  immaterial,"  said  he. 
*'  Bear  ye  this  in  mind,  that,  though  gentle  born,  ye 
have  had  a  country  rearing.     Dinnae  shame  us,  Davie, 


KIDNAPPED.  O 

dinnae  shame  us  !  In  jon  great,  muckle  house,  with 
all  these  domestics,  upper  and  under,  show  yourself  as 
nice,  as  circumspect,  as  quick  at  the  conception,  and  as 
slow  of  speech  as  any.  As  for  the  laird — remember  he's 
the  laird  ;  I  say  no  more  :  honour  to  whom  honour.  It's 
a  pleasure  to  obey  a  laird  ;  or  should  be,  to  the  young." 

''Well,  sir,"  said  I,  "it  may  be;  and  I'll  promise 
you  I'll  try  to  make  it  so." 

"Why,  very  well  said,"  replied  Mr.  Campbell, 
heartily.  "And  now  to  come  to  the  material,  or  (to 
make  a  quibble)  to  the  immaterial.  I  have  here  a  little 
packet  which  contains  four  things."  He  tugged  it,  as 
he  spoke,  and  with  some  difficulty,  from  the  skirt 
pocket  of  his  coat.  "'  Of  these  four  things,  the  first  is 
your  legal  due  :  the  little  pickle  money  for  your  father's 
books  and  plenishing,  which  I  have  bought  (as  I  have 
explained  from  the  first)  in  the  design  of  re-selling  at  a 
profit  to  the  incoming  dominie.  The  other  three  are 
gifties  that  Mrs.  Campbell  and  myself  would  be  blithe 
of  your  acceptance.  The  first,  which  is  round,  will 
likely  please  ye  best  at  the  first  off-go ;  but,  0  Davie 
laddie,  it's  but  a  drop  of  water  in  the  sea  ;  it'll  help  you 
but  a  step,  and  vanish  like  the  morning.  The  second, 
which  is  flat  and  square  and  written  upon,  will  stand  by 
you  through  life,  like  a  good  staff  for  the  road,  and  a 
good  pillow  to  your  head  in  sickness.  And  as  for  the 
last,  which  is  cubical,  that'll  see  you,  it's  my  prayerful 
wish,  into  a  better  land."     , 


6  KIDNAPPED. 

Witli  that  he  got  upon  his  feet,  took  off  his  hat,  and 
prayed  a  little  while  aloud,  and  in  affecting  terms,  for  a 
young  man  setting  out  into  the  world  ;  then  suddenly 
took  me  in  his  arms  and  embraced  me  very  hard  ;  then 
held  me  at  arm's-leugth,  looking  at  me  with  his  face  all 
working  with  sorrow ;  and  then  whipped  about,  and 
crying  good-bye  to  me,  set  off  backward  by  the  way 
that  we  had  come  at  a  sort  of  jogging  run.  It  might 
have  been  laughable  to  another ;  but  I  was  in  no  mind 
to  laugh.  I  watched  him  as  long  as  he  was  in  sight ; 
and  he  never  stopped  hurrying,  nor  once  looked  back. 
Then  it  came  in  upon  my  mind  that  this  was  all  his 
sorrow  at  my  departure ;  and  my  conscience  smote  me 
hard  and  fast,  because  I,  for  my  part,  was  overjoyed  to 
get  away  out  of  that  quiet  country-side,  and  go  to  a 
great,  busy  house,  among  rich  and  respected  gentlefolk 
of  my  own  name  and  blood. 

"Davie,  Davie,"  I  thought,  "was  ever  seen  such  black 
ingratitude  ?  Can  you  forget  old  favours  and  old 
friends  at  the  mere  whistle  of  a  name  ?  Fy,  fy  ;  think 
shame  ! " 

And  I  sat  down  on  the  boulder  the  good  man  had  just 
left,  and  opened  the  parcel  to  see  the  nature  of  my  gifts. 
That  which  he  had  called  cubical,  I  had  never  had  much 
doubt  of  ;  sure  enough  it  was  a  little  Bible,  to  carry  in  a 
plaid-neuk.  That  which  he  had  called  round,  I  found  to 
be  a  shilling  piece  ;  and  the  third,  which  was  to  help  me 
so  wonderfully  both  in  health  and  sickness  all  the  days 


KIDNAPPED.  7 

of  my  life,  was  a  little  piece  of  coarse  yellow  paper, 
written  upon  thus  in  red  ink  : 

"  To  Make  Lilly  of  the  Valley  Water. — Take  the  flowers 
of  lilly  of  the  valley  and  distil  them  in  sack,  and  drink  a  spoone- 
ful  or  two  as  there  is  occasion.  It  restores  speech  to  those  that 
have  the  dumb  palsey.  It  is  good  against  the  Gout;  it  comforts 
the  heart  and  strengthens  the  memory  ;  and  the  flowers,  put  into 
a  Glasse,  close  stopt,  and  set  into  ane  hiU  of  ants  for  a  month, 
then  take  it  out,  and  you  will  find  a  liquor  which  comes  from  the 
flowers,  which  keep  in  a  vial ;  it  is  good,  ill  or  well,  and  whether 
man  or  woman." 

And  then,  in  the  minister's  own  hand,  was  added  : 

"Likewise  for  sprains,  rub  it  in;  and  for  the  cholic,  a  great 
spooneful  in  the  hour." 

To  be  sure,  I  laughed  over  this  ;  but  it  was  rather 
tremulous  laughter  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  get  my  bundle  on 
my  staff's  end  and  set  out  over  the  ford  and  up  the  hill 
upon  the  further  side  ;  till,  just  as  I  came  on  the  green 
drove-road  running  wide  through  the  heather,  I  took 
my  last  look  of  Kirk  Essendean,  the  trees  about  the 
manse,  and  the  big  rowans  in  the  kirkyard  where  my 
father  and  my  mother  lay. 


CHAPTER  11. 

T    COME   TO    MY    JOURNEY'S    END. 

On  the  forenoon  of  the  second  day,  coming  to  the  top 
of  a  hill,  I  saw  all  the  country  fall  away  before  me  down 
to  the  sea  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  this  descent,  on  a  long 
ridge,  the  city  of  Edinburgh  smoking  like  a  kiln.  There 
was  a  flag  upon  tlie  castle,  and  ships  moving  or  lying 
anchored  in  the  firth  ;  both  of  which,  for  as  far  away  as 
they  were,  I  could  distinguish  clearly  ;  and  both  brought 
my  country  heart  into  my  mouth. 

Presently  after,  I  came  by  a  house  where  a  shepherd 
lived,  and  got  a  rough  direction  for  the  neighbourhood 
of  Cramond  ;  and  so,  from  one  to  another,  worked  my 
way  to  the  westward  of  the  capital  by  Colinton,  till  I 
came  out  upon  the  Glasgow  road.  And  there,  to  my 
great  pleasure  and  wonder,  I  beheld  a  regiment  march- 
ing to  the  fifes,  every  foot  in  time  ;  an  old  red-faced 
general  on  a  grey  horse  at  the  one  end,  and  at  the  other 
the  company  of  Grenadiers,  with  their  Pope's-hats.  The 
pride  of  life  seemed  to  mount  into  my  brain  at  the 
sight  of  the  redcoats  and  tlic  hearing  of  that  merry 
music. 

A  little  farther  ou,  and  I  was  told  I  was  in  Cramond 


KIDNAPPED.  9 

parish,  and  began  to  substitute  in  my  inquiries  the 
name  of  the  house  of  Shaws.  It  was  a  word  that  seemed 
to  surprise  those  of  whom -I  sought  my  way.  At  first  I 
thought  the  plainness  of  my  appearance,  in  my  country 
habit,  and  that  all  dusty  from  the  road,  consorted  ill 
with  the  greatness  of  the  place  to  which  I  was  bound. 
But  after  two,  or  maybe  three,  had  given  me  the  same 
look  and  the  same  answer,  I  began  to  take  it  in  my 
head  there  was  something  strange  about  the  Shaws  itself. 

The  better  to  set  this  fear  at  rest,  I  changed  the  form 
of  my  inquiries  ;  and  spying  an  honest  fellow  coming 
along  a  lane  on  the  shaft  of  his  cart,  I  asked  him  if  he 
had  ever  heard  tell  of  a  house  they  called  the  house  of 
Shaws. 

He  stopped  his  cart  and  looked  at  me,  like  the  others. 

"  Ay,"  said  he.     "  What  for  ? " 

"  It's  a  great  house  ?"  I  asked. 

''Doubtless,"  saj's  he.  "The  house  is  a  big,  muckle 
house." 

"Ay,"  said  I,  "but  the  folk  that  are  in  it  ?" 

"  Folk  ? "  cried  he.  ' '  Are  ye  daft  ?  There's  nae 
folk  there— to  call  folk." 

"  What  ?  "  says  I ;  "  not  Mr.  Ebenezer  ?'* 

"0,  ay,"  says  the  man;  "there's  the  laird,  to  be 
sure,  if  it's  him  you're  wanting.  What'll  like  be  your 
business,  mannie  ?  " 

"I  was  led  to  think  that  I  would  get  a  situation," 
I  said,  looking  as  modest  as  I  could. 


10  KIDNAPPED. 

"What?"  cries  the  carter,  in  so  sharp  a  note  that 
his  very  horse  started;  and  then,  ''Well,  mannie,"  he 
added,  "it's  nane  of  my  affairs;  but  ye  seem  a  decent- 
spoken  lad  ;  and  if  ye'U  take  a  word  from  me,  ye'li  keep 
clear  of  the  Shaws." 

The  next  person  I  came  across  was  a  dapper  little 
man  in  a  beautiful  white  wig,  whom  I  saw  to  be  a 
barber  on  his  rounds ;  and  knowing  well  that  barbers 
were  great  gossips,  I  asked  him  plainly  what  sort  of  a 
man  was  Mr.  Balfour  of  the  Shaws. 

"Hoot,  hoot,  hoot,"  said  tlie  barber,  "  nae  kind  of  a 
man,  nae  kind  of  a  man  at  all  ;"  and  began  to  ask  me 
very  shrewdly  what  my  business  was ;  but  I  was  more 
than  a  match  for  him  at  that,  and  he  went  on  to  his 
next  customer  no  wiser  than  he  came. 

I  cannot  well  describe  the  blow  this  dealt  to  my  illu- 
sions. The  more  indistinct  the  accusations  were,  the 
less  I  liked  them,  for  they  left  the  wider  field  to  fancy. 
What  kind  of  a  great  house  was  this,  that  all  the  parish 
should  start  and  stare  to  be  asked  the  way  to  it  ?  or 
what  sort  of  a  gentleman,  that  his  ill-fame  should  be 
thus  current  on  the  wayside  ?  If  an  hours  walking 
would  have  brought  me  back  to  Essendean,  I  had  left 
my  adventure  then  and  there,  and  returned  to  Mr. 
Campbell's.  But  when  I  had  come  so  far  a  way  already, 
mere  shame  would  not  suffer  me  to  desist  till  I  had  put 
the  matter  to  the  touch  of  ])roof  ;  I  was  bound,  out  of 
mere  self-respect,  to  carry  it  through  ;   and  little  as  I 


KIDNAPPED.  11 

liked  the  sound  of  what  I  heard,  and  slow  as  I  began 
to  travel,  I  still  kept  asking  my  way  and  still  kept 
advancing. 

It  was  drawing  on  to  sundown  when  I  met  a  stout, 
dark,  sour-looking  woman  coming  trudging  down  a 
hill  ;  and  she,  when  I  had  put  my  usual  question, 
turned  sharp  about,  accompanied  me  back  to  the  sum- 
mit she  had  just  left,  and  pointed  to  a  great  bulk  of 
building  standing  very  bare  upon  a  green  in  the  bottom 
of  the  next  valley.  The  country  was  pleasant  round 
about,  running  in  low  hills,  pleasantly  watered  and 
wooded,  and  the  crops,  to  my  eyes,  wonderfully  good ; 
but  the  house  itself  appeared  to  be  a  kind  of  ruin  ;  no 
road  led  up  to  it ;  no  smoke  arose  from  any  of  the 
chimneys  ;  nor  was  there  any  semblance  of  a  garden. 
My  heart  sank.     "  That !  "  I  cried. 

The  woman's  face  lit  up  with  a  malignant  anger. 
*•  That  is  the  house  of  Shaws  ! "  she  cried.  "  Blood 
built  it;  blood  stopped  the  building  of  it;  blood  shall 
bring  it  down.  See  here!"  she  cried  again— "I  spit 
upon  the  ground,  and  crack  my  thumb  at  it  !  Black  be 
its  fall  !  If  ye  see  the  laird,  tell  him  what  ye  hear  ; 
tell  him  this  makes  the  twelve  hunner  and  nineteen 
time  that  Jennet  Clouston  has  called  down  the  curse 
on  him  and  his  house,  byre  and  stable,  man,  guest,  and 
master,  wife,  miss,  or  bairn  —  black,  black  be  their 
fall ! " 

And  the  woman,  whose  voice  had  risen  to  a  kind  of 


12  KIDNAPPED. 

eldritch  sing-song,  turned  with  <i  skip,  and  was  gone. 
I  stood  wliere  she  left  me,  with  my  liair  on  end.  In 
these  days  folk  still  believed  in  witches  and  trembled  at 
a  curse;  and  this  one,  falling  so  pat,  like  a  wayside 
omen,  to  arrest  nic  ere  I  carried  out  my  purpose,  took 
the  pith  out  of  my  legs. 

I  sat  me  down  and  stared  at  the  house  of  Shaws. 
The  more  I  looked,  the  pleasanter  that  country-side 
appeared  ;  being  all  set  with  hawthorn  bushes  full  of 
flowers  ;  the  fields  dotted  with  sheep  ;  a  fine  flight  of 
rooks  in  the  sky  ;  and  every  sign  of  a  kind  soil  and 
climate  ;  and  yet  the  barrack  in  the  midst  of  it  went 
sore  against  my  fancy. 

Country  folk  went  by  from  the  fields  as  I  sat  there 
on  the  side  of  the  ditch,  but  I  lacked  the  spirit  to  give 
them  a  good-e'en.  At  last  the  sun  went  down,  and 
then,  right  up  against  the  yellow  sky,  I  saw  a  scroll  of 
smoke  go  mounting,  not  much  thicker,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  than  the  smoke  of  a  candle  ;  but  still  there  it  was, 
and  meant  a  fire,  and  warmth,  and  cookery,  and  some 
living  inhabitant  that  must  have  lit  it  ;  and  this  com- 
forted my  heart  wonderfully — more,  I  feel  sure,  than  a 
whole  flask  of  the  lily  of  the  valley  water  that  Mrs. 
Campbell  set  so  great  a  store  by. 

So  I  set  forward  by  a  little  faint  track  in  the  grass 
that  led  in  my  direction.  It  was  very  faint  indeed  to 
be  the  only  way  to  a  place  of  habitation  ;  yet  I  saw  no 
other.     Presently  it  brought  me  to  stone  uprights,  with 


KIDNAPPED.  13 

an  unroofed  lodge  beside  tliem,  and  coats  of  arms  upon 
the  top.  A  main  entrance,  it  was  plainly  meant  to  be, 
but  never  finished  ;  instead  of  gates  of  wrought  iron,  a 
pair  of  hurdles  were  tied  across  with  a  straw  rope  ;  and 
as  there  were  no  park  walls,  nor  any  sign  of  avenue,  the 
track  that  I  was  following  passed  on  the  right  hand  of 
the  pillars,  and  went  wandering  on  toward  the  house. 

The  nearer  I  got  to  that,  the  drearier  it  appeared. 
It  seemed  like  the  one  wing  of  a  house  that  had  never 
been  finished.  What  should  have  been  the  inner  end 
stood  open  on  the  upper  fioors,  and  showed  against  the 
sky  with  steps  and  stairs  of  uncompleted  masonry. 
Many  of  the  windows  were  unglazed,  and  bats  flew  in 
and  out  like  doves  out  of  a  dove-cote. 

The  night  had  begun  to  fall  as  I  got  close  ;  and  in 
three  of  the  lower  windows,  which  were  very  high  up, 
and  narrow,  and  well  barred,  the  changing  light  of  a 
little  fire  began  to  glimmer. 

Was  this  the  palace  I  had  been  coming  to  ?  Was  it 
within  these  walls  that  I  was  to  seek  new  friends  and 
begin  great  fortunes  ?  Why,  in  my  father's  house  on 
Essen-Waterside,  the  fire  and  the  bright  lights  would 
show  a  mile  away,  and  the  door  open  to  a  beggar's 
knock. 

I  came  forward  cautiou.sly,  and  giving  ear  as  I  came, 
heard  some  one  rattling  with  dishes,  and  a  little  dry, 
eager  cough  that  came  in  fits ;  but  there  was  no  sound 
of  speech,  and  not  a  dog  barked. 


14  KIDNAPPED. 

The  door,  as  well  as  I  could  see  it  in  tlie  dim  light, 
was  a  great  pi^ce  of  wood  all  studded  with  nails  ;  and  I 
lifted  my  hand  with  a  faint  heart  under  my  jacket,  and 
knocked  once.  Then  I  stood  and  waited.  The  house 
had  fallen  into  a  dead  silence ;  a  wliole  minute  passed 
away,  and  nothing  stirred  but  the  bats  overhead.  I 
knocked  again,  and  hearkened  again.  By  this  time  my 
ears  had  grown  so  accustomed  to  the  quiet,  that  I  could 
hear  the  ticking  of  the  clock  inside  as  it  slowly  counted 
out  the  seconds ;  but  whoever  was  in  that  house  kept 
deadly  still,  and  must  have  held  his  breath. 

I  was  in  two  minds  whether  to  run  away ;  but  anger 
got  the  upper  hand,  and  I  began  instead  to  rain  kicks 
and  buffets  on  the  door,  and  to  shout  out  aloud  for  Mr. 
Balfour.  I  was  in  full,  career,  when  I  heard  the  cough 
right  overhead,  and  jumping  back  and  looking  up, 
beheld  a  man's  head  in  a  tall  nightcap,  and  the  bell 
month  of  a  blunderbuss,  at  one  of  the  first  storey 
windows. 

"  It's  loaded,"  said  a  voice. 

"1  have  come  here  with  a  letter,"  I  said,  "to  Mr. 
Ebenezer  Balfour  of  Shaws.     Is  he  here  ?  " 

''From  whom  is  it?"  asked  the  man  with  the 
blunderbuss. 

"  That  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  said  I,  for  I  was 
growing  very  wroth. 

"Well,"  was  the  reply,  "ye  can  put  it  down  upon 
the  doorstep,  and  be  off  with  ye." 


KIDNAPPED.  15 

"  I  will  do  no  such  thing,"  I  cried.  "  I  will  deliver 
it  into  Mr.  Balfour's  hands,  as  it  was  meant  I  should.  It 
is  a  letter  of  introduction.'' 

"A  what  ?"  cried  the  voice,  sharply. 

I  repeated  what  I  had  said. 

'*  Who  are  ye,  yourself  ? "  was  the  next  question, 
after  a  considerable  pause. 

"I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  name,"  said  I.  "They 
call  me  David  Balfour." 

At  that,  1  made  sure  the  man  started,  for  I  heard  the 
blunderbuss  rattle  on  the  window-sill  ;  and  it  Avas  after 
quite  a  long  pause,  and  with  a  curious  change  of  voice, 
that  the  next  question  followed  : 

"  Is  your  father  dead  ?  " 

I  was  so  much  surprised  at  this,  that  I  could  find  no 
voice  to  answer,  but  stood  staring, 

"Ay,"  the  man  resumed,  "he'll  be  dead,  no  doubt; 
and  that'll  be  what  brings  ye  chapping  to  my  door." 
Another  pause,  and  then,  defiantly,  "Well,  man,"  he 
said,  "I'll  let  ye  in;"  and  he  disappeared  from  the 
window. 


chaptp:r  hi. 

I   MAKE    ACQUAINTANCE    OF   MY    UNCLE. 

Presently  there  came  a  great  rattling  of  chains  and 
bolts,  and  the  door  was  cautiously  opened,  and  shut  to 
again  behind  me  as  soon  as  I  had  passed. 

"  Go  into  the  kitchen  and  touch  naething,"  said  the 
voice  ;  and  while  the  person  of  the  house  set  himself  to 
replacing  the  defences  of  the  door,  I  groped  my  way 
forward  and  entered  the  kitchen. 

The  fire  had  burned  up  fairly  bright,  and  showed  me 
the  barest  room  I  think  I  ever  put  my  eyes  on.  Half- 
a-dozen  dishes  stood  upon  the  shelves  ;  the  table  was  laid 
for  supper  with  a  bowl  of  porridge,  a  horn  spoon,  and  a 
cup  of  small  beer.  Besides  what  I  have  named,  there 
was  not  another  thing  in  that  great,  stone-vaulted, 
empty  chamber,  but  lockfast  chests  arranged  along  the 
wall  and  a  corner  cupboard  with  a  padlock. 

As  soon  as  the  last  chain  was  up  the  man  rejoined 
me.  He  was  a  mean,  stooping,  narrow-shouldered,  clav- 
faced  creature  ;  and  his  age  might  have  been  anything 
between  fifty  and  seventy.  His  nightcap  was  of  flannel, 
and  so  was  the  nightgown  that  he  wore,  instead  of  coat 
and  waistcoat,  over  his  ragged  shirt.     He  was  long  un- 


^         KIDNAPPED.  17 

shaved  ;  but  what  most  distressed  and  even  daunted  me, 
he  would  neither  take  his  eyes  away  from  me  nor  look 
me  fairly  in  the  face.  What  he  was,  whether  by  trade 
or  birth,  was  more  than  I  could  fathom  ;  but  he  seemed 
most  like  an  old,  unprofitable  serving-man,  who  should 
have  been  left  in  charge  of  that  big  house  upon  board 
wages. 

"Are  ye  sharp-set?"  he  asked,  glancing  at  about 
the  level  of  my  knee.    "  Ye  can  eat  that  drop  parritch." 

I  said  I  feared  it  was  his  own  supper. 

"0,"  said  he,  "I  can  do  fine  wanting  it.  I'll  take 
the  ale  though,  for  it  sleekens*  my  cough."  He  drank 
the  cup  about  half  out,  still  keeping  an  eye  upon  me  as 
he  drank;  and  then  suddenly  held  out  his  band.  ''Let's 
see  the  letter,"  said  he. 

I  told  him  the  letter  was  for  Mr.  Balfour  ;  not  for 
him. 

"  And  who  do  ye  think  I  am  ?  "  says  he.  "  Give  me 
Alexander's  letter  ! " 

"  You  know  my  father's  name  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  I  didnae,"  he  returned,  "  for 
he  was  my  born  brother  ;  and  little  as  ye  seem  to  like 
either  me  or  my  house,  or  my  good  parritch,  I'm  your 
born  uncle,  Davie  my  man,  and  you  my  born  nephew. 
So  give  us  the  letter,  and  sit  down  and  fill  your  kyte." 

If  I  had  been  some  years  younger,  what  with  shame, 
weariness,   and   disappointment,  I  believe  I  had  burst 

*  Moistens. 


18  KIDNAPPED.  L 

into  tears.  As  it  was,  I  could  find  no  words,  neither 
black  nor  white,  but  handed  him  the  letter,  and  sat  down 
to  the  porridge  with  as  little  appetite  for  meat  as  ever 
a  young  man  had. 

Meanwhile,  my  uncle,  stooping  over  the  fire,  turned 
the  letter  over  and  over  in  his  hands. 

''  Do  ye  ken  what's  in  it  ?"  he  asked  suddenly. 

*'You  see  for  yourself,  sir,"  said  I,  'Hhat  the  seal 
has  not  been  broken." 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "  but  what  brought  you  here  ?" 

"To  give  the  letter,"  said  I. 

"  No,"  says  he,  cunningly,  "  but  ye'll  have  had  some 
hopes,  nae  doubt  ?  " 

"  I  confess,  sir,"  said  I,  '■'  when  I  was  told  that  I 
had  kinsfolk  well-to-do,  I  deed  indeed  indulge  the  hope 
that  they  might  help  me  in  my  life.  But  1  am  no 
beggar  ;  I  look  for  no  favours  at  your  hands,  and  I 
want  none  that  are  not  freely  given.  For  as  poor  as  I 
appear,  I  have  friends  of  my  own  that  will  be  blithe  to 
help  me." 

"Hoot-hoot  !"  said  Uncle  Ebenezer,  "  dinnae  fly  up 
in  the  snuff  at  mo.  We'll  agree  fine  yet.  And,  Davie 
my  man,  if  you're  done  with  that  bit  parritch,  I  could 
just  take  a  sup  of  it  myself.  Ay,"  he  continued,  as 
soon  as  he  had  ousted  me  from  the  stool  and  spoon, 
"  they're  fine,  halesome  food— they're  grand  food,  par- 
ritch." He  murmured  a  little  grace  to  himself  and 
fell  to.     "Your  father  was   very  fond    of  his  meat,  I 


0       KIDNAPPED.  19 

mind  ;  he  was  a  hearty,  if  not  a  great  eater  ;  but  as  for 
me,  I  could  never  do  mair  than  pyke  at  food."  He  took 
a  pull  at  the  small  beer,  which  probably  reminded  him 
of  hospitable  duties  ;  for  his  next  speech  ran  thus  :  "If 
ye're  dry,  ye'll  find  water  behind  the  door." 

To  this  I  returned  no  answer,  standing  stiffly  on  my 
two  feet,  and  looking  down  upon  my  uncle  with  a 
mighty  angry  heart.  He,  on  his  part,  continued  to  eat 
like  a  man  under  some  pressure  of  time,  and  to  throw 
out  little  darting  glances  now  at  my  shoes  and  now  at 
my  homespun  stockings.  Once  only,  when  he  had 
ventured  to  look  a  little  higher,  our  eyes  met ;  and  no 
thief  taken  with  a  hand  in  a  man's  pocket  could  have 
shown  more  lively  signals  of  distress.  This  set  me  in  a 
muse,  whether  his  timidity  arose  from  too  long  a  disuse 
of  any  human  company  ;  and  whether  perhaps,  upon  a 
little  trial,  it  might  pass  off,  and  my  uncle  change  into 
an  altogether  different  man.  From  this  I  was  awakened 
by  his  sharp  voice. 

"  Your  father's  been  long  dead  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Three  weeks,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  He  was  a  secret  man,  Alexander ;  a  secret,  silent 
man,"  he  continued.  "JHe  never  said  muckle  when  he 
was  young.     He'll  never  have  spoken  muckle  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  never  knew,  sir,  till  you  told  it  me  yourself,  that 
he  had  any  brother." 

"Dear  me,  dear  me  !  "  said  Ebenezer.  "Nor  yet  of 
Shaws,  I  daresay  ?  " 


20  KIDNAPPED.        1^ 

"Not  so  much  as  the  name,  sir,"  said  I. 

''To  think  o'  that!"  said  he.  ''A  strange  nature 
of  a  man  !  *'  For  all  that,  he  seemed  singularly  satis- 
fied, but  whether  with  himself,  or  me,  or  with  this 
conduct  of  my  father's,  was  more  than  I  could  read. 
Certainly,  however,  he  seemed  to  be  outgrowing  that 
distaste,  or  ill-will,  that  he  had  conceived  at  first  against 
my  person  ;  for  presently  he  jumped  up,  came  across 
the  room  behind  me,  and  hit  me  a  smack  upon  the 
shoulder.  *'  We'll  agree  fine  yet  ! "  he  cried.  "  I'm 
just  as  glad  I  let  you  in.  And  now  come  awa'  to  your 
bed." 

To  my  surprise,  he  lit  no  lamp  or  candle,  but  set 
forth  into  the  dark  passage,  groped  his  way,  breathing 
deeply,  up  a  flight  of  steps,  and  paused  before  a  door, 
which  he  unlocked.  I  was  close  upon  his  heels,  having 
stumbled  after  him  as  best  I  might ;  and  he  bade  me 
go  in,  for  that  was  my  chamber.  I  did  as  he  bid,  but 
paused  after  a  few  steps,  and  begged  a  light  to  go  to 
bed  with. 

"Hoot-toot!"  said  Uncle  Ebenezer,  "there's  a  fine 
moon." 

"Neither  moon  nor  star,  sir,  and  pit-mirk,"*  said  I. 
"  I  cannae  see  the  bed." 

"Hoot-toot,  hoot-toot!"  said  he.  "Lights  in  a 
house  is  a  thing  I  dinnae  agree  with.  I'm  unco  feared 
of  fires.     Good   night   to   ye,  Davie  my   man."     And 

*  Dark  as  the  pit. 


KIDNAPPED.  21 

before  I  had  time  to  add  a  further  protest,  he  pulled 
the  door  to,  and  I  heard  him  lock  me  in  from  the 
outside. 

I  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry.  The  room 
was  as  cold  as  a  well,  and  the  bed,  when  I  had  found 
my  way  to  it,  as  damp  as  a  peat-hag ;  but  by  good 
fortune  I  had  caught  up  my  bundle  and  my  plaid,  and 
rolling  myself  in  the  latter,  I  lay  down  upon  the  floor 
under  the  lee  of  the  big  bedstead,  and  fell  speedily 
asleep. 

With  the  first  peep  of  day  I  opened  my  eyes,  to  find 
myself  in  a  great  chamber,  hung  with  stamped  leather, 
furnished  with  fine  embroidered  furniture,  and  lit  by 
three  fair  windows.  Ten  years  ago,  or  perhaps  twenty, 
it  must  have  been  as  pleasant  a  room  to  lie  down  or 
to  awake  in,  as  a  man  could  wish  ;  but  damp,  dirt, 
disuse,  and  the  mice  and  spiders  had  done  their  worst 
since  then.  Many  of  the  window-panes,  besides,  were 
broken  ;  and  indeed  this  was  so  common  a  feature  in 
that  house,  that  I  believe  my  uncle  must  a^  some  time 
have  stood  a  siege  from  his  indignant  neighbours — per- 
haps with  Jennet  Clouston  at  their  head. 

Meanwhile  the  sun  was  shining  outside  ;  and  being 
very  cold  in  that  miserable  room,  I  knocked  and 
shouted  till  my  gaoler  came  and  let  me  out.  He  carried 
me  to  the  back  of  the  house,  where  was  a  draw-well, 
and  told  me  to  ''  wash  my  face  there,  if  I  wanted  ; " 
and  when  that  was  done,  I  made  the  best  of  my  own 


22  KIDNAPPED. 

way  back  to  the  kitchen,  where  he  had  lit  the  fire  and 
was  making  the  porridge.  The  table  was  laid  with  two 
bowls  and  two  horn  spoons,  but  the  same  single 
measure  of  small  beer.  Perhaps  my  eye  rested  on  this 
particular  with  some  surprise,  and  perhaps  my  uncle 
observed  it ;  for  he  spoke  up  as  if  in  answer  to  my 
thought,  asking  me  if  I  would  like  to  drink  ale — for  so 
he  called  it. 

I  told  him  such  was  my  habit,  but  not  to  put  himself 
about. 

*'Na,  na,"  said  he;  ''I'll  deny  you  nothing  in 
reason. " 

He  fetched  another  cup  from  the  shelf  ;  and  then,  to 
my  great  surprise,  instead  of  drawing  more  beer,  he 
poured  an  accurate  half  from  one  cup  to  the  other. 
There  was  a  kind  of  nobleness  in  this  that  took  my 
breath  away  ;  if  my  uncle  was  certainly  a  miser,  he  was 
one  of  that  thorough  breed  that  goes  near  to  make  the 
vice  respectable. 

When  wc  had  made  an  end  of  our  meal,  my  uncle 
Ebenezer  unlocked  a  drawer,  and  drew  out  of  it  a  clay 
pipe  and  a  lump  of  tobacco,  from  which  he  cut  one  fill 
before  he  locked  it  up  again.  Then  he  sat  down  in  the 
sun  at  one  of  the  windows  and  silently  smoked.  From 
time  to  time  his  eyes  came  coasting  round  to  me,  and 
he  shot  out  one  of  his  questions.  Once  it  was,  "  And 
your  mother?"  and  when  I  had  told  him  that  she, 
too,  was  dead,   "Ay,  she  was  a  bonnie  lassie  !"     Then 


KIDNAPPED.  23 

after  another  long  pause,  "Whae  were  these  friends  o' 
yours  ?" 

I  told  him  they  were  different  gentlemen  of  the 
name  of  Campbell ;  though,  indeed,  there  was  only  one, 
and  that  the  minister,  that  had  ever  taken  the  least 
note  of  me  ;  but  I  began  to  think  my  uncle  made  too 
light  of  my  position,  and  finding  myself  all  alone  with 
him,  I  did  not  wish  him  to  suppose  me  helpless. 

He  seemed  to  turn  this  over  in  his  mind ;  and  then, 
"Davie  my  man,"  said  he,  ''ye've  come  to  the  right  bit 
when  ye  came  to  your  Uncle  Ebenezer.  I've  a  great 
notion  of  the  family,  and  I  mean  to  do  the  right  by 
you  ;  but  while  I'm  taking  a  bit  think  to  mysel'  of 
what's  the  best  thing  to  put  you  to — whether  the  law, 
or  the  meenistry,  or  maybe  the  army,  whilk  is  what 
boys  are  fondest  of — I  wouldnae  like  the  Balfours  to  be 
humbled  before  a  wheen  Hieland  Campbells,  and  Til 
ask  you  to  keep  your  tongue  within  your  teeth.  Nae 
letters;  nae  messages  ;  no  kind  of  word  to  onybody ;  or 
else — there's  my  door." 

*' Uncle  Ebenezer,"  said  I,  *'Fve  no  manner  of  reason 
to  suppose  you  mean  anything  but  well  by  me.  For  all 
that,  I  would  have  you  to  know  that  I  have  a  pride  of 
my  own.  It  was  by  no  will  of  mine  that  I  came  seeking 
you ;  and  if  you  show  me  your  door  again,  I'll  take  you 
at  the  word." 

He  seemed  grievously  put  out.  "Hoots-toots,"  said 
he,  "ca'  cannie,  man — ca'  cannie  !     Bide  a  day  or  two. 


24  KIDNAPPED. 

I'm  ii.ao  warlock,  to  find  a  fortune  for  you  in  the  bottom 
of  a  parritch  bowl ;  but  just  you  give  me  a  day  or  two, 
and  say  naething  to  naebody,  and  as  sure  as  sure,  I'll  do 
the  right  by  you." 

"Very  well,"  said  I,  ''enough  said.  If  you  want  to 
help  me,  there's  no  doubt  but  I'll  be  glad  of  it,  and 
none  but  I'll  be  grateful." 

It  seemed  to  me  (too  soon,  I  daresay)  that  I  was  get- 
ting the  upper  hand  of  my  uncle  ;  and  I  began  next  to 
say  that  I  must  have  the  bed  and  bedclothes  aired  and 
put  to  sun-dry;  for  nothing  would  make  me  sleep  in 
such  a  pickle. 

"Is  this  my  house  or  yours?"  said  he,  in  his  keen 
voice,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden  broke  off.  "Na,  na," 
said  he,  "I  dinnae  mean  that.  What's  mine  is  yours, 
Davie  my  man,  and  what's  yours  is  mine.  Blood's 
thicker  than  water ;  and  there's  naebody  but  you  and 
me  that  ought  the  name."  And  then  on  he  rambled 
about  the  family,  and  its  ancient  greatness,  and  his 
father  that  began  to  enlarge  the  house,  and  himself 
that  stopped  the  building  As  a  sinful  waste  ;  and  this  put 
it  in  my  head  to  give  him  Jennet  Clouston's  message. 
»  "The  limmer!"  he  cried.  "Twelve  liunner  and 
fifteen— that's  every  day  since  I  had  the  limmer  row- 
pit  !  *  Dod,  David,  I'll  have  her  roasted  on  red  peats 
before  I'm  by  with  it !  A  witch — a  proclaimed  witch ! 
I'll  aff  and  see  the  session  clerk." 

*  Sold  up. 


KIDNAPPED.  25 

And  with  that  he  opened  a  chest,  and  got  out  a  very 
old  and  well-preserved  bine  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  a 
good  enough  beaver  hat,  both  without  lace.  These  he 
threw  on  anyway,  and  taking  a  staff  from  the  cupboard, 
locked  all  up  again,  and  was  for  setting  out,  when  a 
thought  arrested  him. 

"1  cannae  leave  you  by  yoursel' in  the  house,"  said 
he.     *'ril  have  to  lock  you  out." 

The  blood  came  into  my  face.  "If  you  lock  me  out," 
I  said,  ** it'll  be  the  last  you  see  of  me  in  friendship." 

He  turned  very  pale,  and  sucked  his  mouth  in.  "This 
is  no  the  way,"  he  said,  looking  wickedly  at  a -comer  of 
the  floor — "this  is  no  the  way  to  win  ray  favour, 
David." 

"Sir,"  says  I,  "with  a  proper  reverence  for  your  age 
and  our  common  blood,  I  do  not  value  your  favour  at  a 
boddle's  purchase.  I  was  brought  up  to  have  a  good 
conceit  of  myself ;  and  if  you  were  all  the  uncle,  and  all 
the  family,  I  had  in  the  world  ten  times  over,  I  wouldn't 
buy  your  liking  at  such  prices." 

Uncle  Ebenezer  went  and 'looked  out  of  the  window 
for  a  while.  I  could  see  him  all  trembling  and  twitch- 
ing, like  a  man  with  palsy.  But  when  he  turned  round, 
he  had  a  smile  upon  his  face. 

"Well,  well,"  said  he,  "we  must  bear  and  forbear. 
I'll  no  go ;  that's  all  that's  to  be  said  of  it." 

"Uncle  Ebenezer,"  I  said,  "I  can  make  nothing  out 
of  this.     You  use  me  like  a  thief  i  you  hate  to  have  me 


26  KIDNAPPED. 

in  this  house ;  you  let  me  see  it,  every  word  and  every 
minute;  it's  not  possible  that  you  can  like  me;  and  as 
for  me,  I've  spoken  to  you  as  I  never  thought  to  speak 
to  any  man.  Why  do  you  seek  to  keep  me,  then  ?  Let 
me  gang  back — let  me  gang  back  to  the  friends  I  have, 
and  that  like  me  ! " 

"Na,  na ;  na,  na,"  he  said,  very  earnestly.  "I  like 
you  fine  ;  we'll  agree  fine  yet ;  and  for  the  honour  of  the 
house  I  couldnae  let  you  leave  the  way  ye  came.  Bide 
here  quiet,  there's  a  good  lad  ;  just  you  bide  here  quiet 
a  bittie,  and  ye'll  find  that  we  agree." 

''  Well,-  sir,"  said  I,  after  I  had  thought  the  matter 
out.  in  silence,  "I'll  stay  a  while.  It's  more  just  I 
should  be  helped  by  my  own  blood  than  strangers  ;  and 
if  we  don't  agree,  I'll  do  my  best  it  shall  be  through  no 
fault  of  mine." 


CHAPTER  IV.    • 

I  EUN  A  GEEAT  DANGEE  IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  SHAWS. 

Foe  a  day  that  was  begun  so  ill,  the  day  passed  fairly 
well.  We  had  the  porridge  cold  again  at  noon,  and  hot 
porridge  at  night :  porridge  and  small  beer  was  my 
uncle's  diet.  He  spoke  but  little,  and  that  in  the  same 
way  as  before,  shooting  a  question  at  me  after  a  long 
silence  ;  and  when  I  sought  to  lead  him  in  talk  about 
my  future,  slipped  out  of  it  again.  In  a  room  next  door 
to  the  kitchen,  where  he  suffered  me  to  go,  I  found  a 
great  number  of  books,  both  Latin  and  English,  in 
which  I  took  great  pleasure  all  the  afternoon.  Indeed 
the  time  passed  so  lightly  in  this  good  company,  that  I 
began  to  be  almost  reconciled  to  my  residence  at  Shaws ; 
and  nothing  but  the  sight  of  my  uncle,  and  his  eyes 
playing  hide  and  seek  with  mine,  revived  the  force  of 
ray  distrust. 

One  thing  I  discovered,  which  put  me  in  some  doiibt. 
This  was  an  entry  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a  chapbook  (one  of 
Patrick  Walker's)  plainly  written  by  my  father's  hand 
and  thus  conceived  :  "To  my  brother  Ebenezer  on  his 
fifth  birthday."  Now,  what  puzzled  me  was  this  : 
That  as  my  father  was  of  course  the  younger  brother, 
he  must  either  have  made  some  strange  error,  or  he  must 


28  KIDNAPPED. 

have  written,  before  he  was  yet  five,  an  excellent,  clear, 
manly  hand  of  writing. 

I  tried  to  get  this  out  of  my  head  ;  but  though  I 
took  down  many  interesting  authors,  old  and  new, 
history,  poetry,  and  story-book,  this  notion  of  my 
father's  hand  of  writing  stuck  to  me  ;  and  when  at 
length  I  went  back  into  the  kitchen,  and  sat  down  once 
more  to  porridge  and  small  beer,  the  first  thing  I  said  to 
Uncle  Ebenezer  was  to  ask  him  if  my  father  had  not 
been  very  quick  at  his  book. 

*' Alexander?  No  him  !"  was  the  reply.  "I  was 
far  quicker  mysel'  ;  I  was  a  clever  chappie  when  I  was 
young.     Why,  I  could  read  as  soon  as  he  could." 

This  puzzled  me  yet  more  ;  and  a  thought  coming 
into  my  head,  I  asked  if  he  and  my  father  had  been 
twins. 

He  jumped  upon  his  stool,  and  the  horn  spoon  fell 
out  of  his  hand  upon  the  floor.  "  What  gars  ye  ask 
that  ?"  he  said,  and  caught  me  by  the  breast  of  the 
jacket,  and  looked  this  time  straight  into  my  eyes  ;  his 
own,  which  were  little  and  light,  and  bright  like  a 
bird's,  blinking  and  winking  strangely. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  I  asked,  very  calmly,  for  I 
was  far  stronger  than  he,  and  not  easily  frightened. 
"  Take  your  hand  from  my  jacket.  This  is  no  way  to 
behave. '' 

My  uncle  seemed  to  make  a  great  effort  upon  him- 
self.    "Dod,    man   David,"   he    said,    "ye   shonldnae 


KIDNAPPED.  29 

speak  to  me  about  jour  father.  That's  where  the 
mistake  is."  He  sat  a  while  and  shook,  blinking  in  his 
plate  :  "  He  was  all  the  brother  that  ever  I  had,"  he 
added,  but  with  no  heart  in  his  voice ;  and  then  he 
caught  up  his  spoon  and  fell  to  supper  again,  but  still 
shaking. 

Now  this  last  passage,  this  laying  of  hands  upon  my 
person  and  sudden  profession  of  love  for  my  dead  father, 
went  so  clean  beyond  my  comprehension  that  it  put  me 
into  both  fear  and  hope.  On  the  one  hand,  I  began  to 
think  my  uncle  was  perhaps  insane  and  might  be  dan- 
gerous ;  on  the  other,  there  came  up  into  my  mind 
(quite  unbidden  by  me  and  even  discouraged)  a  story 
like  some  ballad  I  had  heard  folk  singing,  of  a  poor  lad 
that  was  a  rightful  heir  and  a  wicked  kinsman  that  tried 
to  keep  him  from  his  own.  For  why  should  my  uncle 
play  a  part  with  a  relative  that  came,  almost  a  beggar, 
to  his  door,  unless  in  his  heart  he  had  some  cause  to 
fear  him  ? 

With  this  notion,  all  unacknowledged,  but  neverthe- 
less getting  firmly  settled  in  my  head,  I  now  began  to 
imitate  his  covert  looks ;  so  that  we  sat  at  table  like  a 
cat  and  a  mouse,  each  stealthily  observing  the  other. 
Not  another  word  had  he  to  say  to  me,  black  or  white, 
but  was  busy  turning  something  secretly  over  in  his 
mind  ;  and  the  longer  we  sat  and  the  more  I  looked  at 
him,  the  more  certain  I  became  that  the  something  was 
unfriendly  to  myself. 


30  KIDNAPPED. 

When  he  had  cleared  the  platter,  he  got  out  a  single 
pipeful  of  tobacco,  just  as  in  the  morning,  turned  round 
a  stool  into  the  chimney  corner,  and  sat  a  while  smoking, 
witii  his  back  to  me. 

"Davie,"  he  said,  at  length,  "I've  been  thinking;'' 
then  he  paused,  and  said  it  again.  "  There's  a  wee  bit 
siller  that  I  half  promised  ye  before  ye  were  born,"  he 
continued  ;  "  promised  it  to  your  father.  0,  naething 
legal,  ye  understand ;  just  gentlemen  daffing  at  their 
wine.  Well,  I  keepit  that  bit  money  separate — it  was 
a  great  expense,  but  a  promise  is  a  promise — and  it  has 
grown  by  now  to  be  a  maitter  of  just  precisely — just 
exactly" — and  here  he  paused  and  stumbled — ''  of  just 
exactly  forty  pounds  !"  This  last  he  rapped  out  with  a 
sidelong  glance  over  his  shoulder  ;  and  the  next  moment 
added,  almost  with  a  scream,  "  Scots  I  " 

The  pound  Scots  being  the  same  thing  as  an  English 
shilling,  the  difference  made  by  this  second  thought  was 
considerable  ;  I  could  see,  besides,  that  the  whole  story 
was  a  lie,  invented  with  some  end  which  it  puzzled  me  to 
guess ;  and  I  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  the  tone  of 
raillery  in  which  I  answered  : 

**  0,  think  again,  sir!     Pounds  sterling,  I  believe  !" 

'*  That's  what  1  said,"  returned  my  uncle  ;  ''  pounds 
sterling !  And  if  you'll  step  out-by  to  the  door  a 
minute,  just  to  see  what  kind  of  a  night  it  is,  I'll  get  it 
out  to  ye  and  call  ye  in  again." 

I  did  his  will,  smiling  to  myself  in  my  contempt  that 


KIDNAPPED.  81 

he  should  think  I  was  so  easily  to  be  deceived.  It  was 
a  dark  night,  with  a  few  stars  low  down  ;  and  as  I  stood 
just  outside  the  door,  I  heard  a  hollow  moaning  of  wind 
far  off  among  the  hills.  I  said  to  myself  there  was 
something  thundery  and  changeful  in  the  weather,  and 
little  knew  of  what  a  vast  importance  that  should  prove 
to  me  before  the  evening  passed. 

"When  I  was  called  in  again,  my  uncle  counted  out 
into  my  hand  seven  and  thirty  golden  guinea  pieces  ; 
the  rest  was  in  his  hand,  in  small  gold  and  silver  ;  but 
his  heart  failed  him  there,  and  he  crammed  the  change 
into  his  pocket. 

"There,"  said  he,  "that'll  show  you  !  I'm  a  queer 
man,  and  strange  wi'  strangers ;  but  my  word  is  my 
bond,  and  there's  the  proof  of  it." 

Now,  my  uncle  seemed  so  miserly  that  I  was  struck 
dumb  by  this  sudden  generosity,  and  could  find  no 
words  in  which  to  thank  him. 

"No  a  Avord  !  "  said  he.  "Nae  thanks  ;  I  want  nae 
thanks.  I  do  my  duty  ;  I'm  no  saying  that  everybody 
would  have  done  it ;  but  for  my  part  (though  I'm 
a  careful  body,  too)  it's  a  pleasure  to  mo  to  do  the 
right  by  my  brother's  son  ;  and  it's  a  pleasure  to  me  to 
think  that  now  we'll  can  agree  as  such  near  friends 
should."  • 

I  spoke  him  in  return  as  handsomely  as  I  was  able  ; 
but  all  the  while  I  was  wondering  what  would  come 
next,  and  why  he  had  parted  with  his  precious  guineas; 


82  KIDNAPPED, 

for  as  to  the  reason  he  liad  given,  a  baby  would  have 
refused  it. 

Presently,  he  looked  towards  me  sideways  : 

'•  And  see  here,"  says  he,  *'  tit  for  tat." 

I  told  him  I  was  ready  to  prove  my  gratitude  in  any 
reasonable  degree,  and  then  waited,  looking  for  some 
monstrous  demand.  And  yet,  when  at  last  he  plucked 
up  courage  to  speak,  it  was  only  to  tell  me  (very  prop- 
erly, as  I  thought)  that  he  was  growing  old  and  a  little 
broken,  and  that  he  would  expect  me  to  help  him  with 
the  house  and  the  bit  garden. 

I  answered,  and  expressed  my  readiness  to  serve. 

*'Well,"  he  said,  "let's  begin."  He  pulled  out  of 
his  pocket  a  rusty  key.  "  There,"  says  he,  ''  there's  the 
key  of  the  stair-tower  at  the  far  end  of  the  house.  Ye 
can  only  win  into  it  from  tlie  outside,  for  that  part  of 
the  house  is  no  finished.  Gang  ye  in  there,  and  up  the 
stairs,  and  bring  me  down  the  chest  that's  at  the  top. 
There's  papers  in't,"  he  added. 

'•'  Can  I  have  a  light,  sir  ?''  said  I. 

"Na,"  said  he,  very  cunningly.  "Nae  lights  in  my 
house." 

*'  Very  well,  sir,"  said  I.     "  Are  the  stairs  good  ?  " 

"  They're  grand,"  said  he  ;  and  then  as  I  was  going, 
"  Keep  to  the  wall,"  he  added  ;  "  there's  nae  bannisters. 
But  the  stairs  are  grand  underfoot." 

Out  I  went  into  the  night.  The  wind  was  still 
moaning  in  the  distance,  though  never  a  breath  of  it 


KIDNAPPED.  33 

came  near  the  bouse  of  Sliaws.  It  had  fallen  blacker 
than  ever  ;  and  I  was  glad  to  feel  along  the  wall,  till  I 
came  the  length  of  the  stair-tower  door  at  the  far  end 
of  the  unfinished  wing.  I  bad  got  the  key  into  the 
keyhole  and  had  Just  turned  it,  when  all  upon  a 
sudden,  without  sound  of  wind  or  thunder,  the  whole 
sky  was  lighted  up  with  wild  fire  and  went  black  again. 
I  had  to  put  my  band  over  my  eyes  to  get  back  to  the 
colour  of  the  darkness ;  and  indeed  I  was  already  half 
blinded  when  I  stepped  into  the  tower. 

It  was  so  dark  inside,  it  seemed  a  body  could  scarce 
breathe  ;  but  I  pushed  out  with  foot  and  hand,  and 
presently  struck  the  wall  with  the  one,  and  the  lower- 
most round  of  the  stair  with  the  other.  The  wall,  by 
the  touch,  was  of  fine  hewn  stone ;  the  steps  too, 
though  somewhat  steep  and  narrow,  were  of  polished 
mason-work,  and  regular  and  solid  underfoot.  Minding 
my  uncle's  word  about  the  bannisters,  I  kept  close  to 
the  tower  side,  and  felt  my  way  up  in  the  pitch  dark- 
ness with  a  beating  heart. 

The  bouse  of  Shaws  stood  some  five  full  storeys 
high,  not  counting  lofts.  Well,  as  I  advanced,  it 
seemed  to  me  the  stair  grew  airier  and  a  thought  more 
lightsome  ;  and  I  was  wondering  what  might  be  the 
cause  of  this  change,  when  a  second  blink  of  the  sum- 
mer lightning  came  and  went.  If  I  did  not  cry  out,  it 
was  because  fear  had  me  by  the  throat  ;  and  if  I  did 
not  fall,  it  was  more  by  Heaven's  mercy  than  my  own 
3 


34  KIDNAPPED. 

strength.  It  was  not  only  tluiL  the  flash  shone  in  on 
every  side  through  breaches  in  the  wall,  so  that  I 
seemed  to  be  clambering  aloft  upon  an  open  scaffold, 
but  the  same  i)assing  brightness  showed  me  the  steps 
were  of  unequal  length,  and  that  one  of  my  feet  rested 
that  moment  within  two  inches  of  the  well. 

This  was  the  grand  stair  !  I  thought ;  and  with  the 
thought,  a  gust  of  a  kind  of  angry  courage  came  into 
my  heart.  My  uncle  had  sent  me  here,  certainly  to  run 
great  risks,  perhaps  to  die.  I  swore  I  would  settle  that 
**  perhaps,"  if  I  should  break  my  neck  for  it ;  got  me 
down  upon  my  hands  and  knees  ;  and  as  slowly  as  a 
snail,  feeling  before  me  every  inch,  and  testing  the 
solidity  of  every  stone,  I  continued  to  ascend  the  stair. 
The  darkness,  by  contrast  with  the  flash,  appeared  to 
have  redoubled  ;  nor  was  that  all ;  for  my  ears  Avere 
now  troubled  and  my  mind  confounded  by  a  great  stir 
of  bats  in  the  top  part  of  the  tower,  and  the  foul  beasts, 
flying  downwards,  sometimes  beat  about  my  face  and 
body. 

The  tower,  I  should  have  said,  was  square  ;  and  in 
every  corner  the  step  was  made  of  a  great  stone  of  a 
different  shape,  to  join  the  flights.  Well,  I  had  come 
close  to  one  of  these  turns,  when,  feeling  forward  as  usual, 
my  hand  slipped  upon  an  edge  and  found  nothing  but 
emptiness  beyond  it.  The  stair  had  l)cen  carried  no 
higher:  to  set  a  stranger  mounting  it  in  the  darkness 
was  to  send  hiui  straight  to  his  death;   and  (although, 


KIDNAPrED.  35 

thanks  to  the  lightning  and  my  own  precautions,  I  was 
safe  enough)  the  mere  thought  of  the  peril  in  which  I 
might  have  stood,  and  the  dreadful  height  I  might  have 
fallen  from,  brought  out  the  sweat  upon  my  body  and 
relaxed  my  joints. 

But  I  knew  what  I  wanted  now,  and  turned  and 
groped  my  way  down  again,  with  a  wonderful  anger  in 
my  heart.  About  half-way  down,  the  wind  sprang  up 
in  a  clap  and  shook  the  tower,  and  died  again  ;  the  rain 
followed ;  and  before  I  had  reached  the  ground  level,  it 
fell  in  buckets.  I  put  out  my  head  into  the  storm,  and 
looked  along  towards  the  kitchen.  The  door,  whicli  I 
had  shut  behind  me  when  I  left,  now  stood  open,  and 
shed  a  little  glimmer  of  light ;  and  I  thought  I  could 
see  a  figure  standing  in  the  rain,  quite  still,  like  a  man 
hearkening.  And  then  there  came  a  blinding  flash, 
which  showed  me  my  uncle  plainly,  just  where  I  had 
fancied  him  to  stand  ;  and  hard  ujion  the  heels  of  it,  a 
great  tow-row  of  thunder. 

Now,  whether  my  uncle  thought  the  crash  to  be  the 
sound  of  my  fall,  or  Avhether  he  heard  in  it  God's  voice 
denouncing  murder,  I  will  leave  you  to  guess.  Certain 
it  is,  at  least,  that  he  was  seized  on  by  a  kind  of  panic 
fear,  and  that  he  ran  into  the  house  and  left  the  door 
open  behind  him.  I  followed  as  softly  as  I  could,  and, 
coming  unheard  into  the  kitchen,  stood  and  watched 
him. 

He  had  found  time  to  open  the  corner  cupboard  and 


36  KIDNAPPED. 

bring  ont  ;i  grcut  case  bottle  of  aqua  vitfe,  and  now  sat 
with  his  back  towards  me  at  the  table.  Ever  and  again 
he  would  be  seized  with  a  fit  of  deadly  shuddering  and 
groan  aloud,  and  carrying  the  bottle  to  his  lips,  drink 
down  the  raw  spirits  by  the  mouthful. 

I  stepped  forward,  came  close  behind  him  where  ho 
sat,  and  suddenly  clapping  my  two  hands  down  upon 
his  shoulders — "Ah  !"  cried  I. 

My  uncle  gave  a  kind  of  broken  cry  like  a  sheep's 
bleat,  flung  up  his  arms,  and  tumbled  to  the  floor  like  a 
dead  man.  I  was  somewhat  shocked  at  this  ;  but  I  had 
mvself  to  look  to  first  of  all,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  let 
him  lie  as  he  had  fallen.  The  keys  were  hanging  in  the 
cupboard  ;  and  it  was  my  design  to  furnish  myself  with 
arms  before  my  uncle  should  come  again  to  his  senses  and 
the  power  of  devising  evil.  In  the  cuj^board  were  a  few 
bottles,  some  apparently  of  medicine  ;  a  great  many  bills 
and  other  papers,  which  I  should  willingly  enough  have 
rummaged,  had  I  had  the  time ;  and  a  few  necessaries, 
that  were  nothing  to  my  purpose.  Thence  I  turned  to 
the  chests.  The  first  was  full  of  meal ;  the  second  of 
money-bags  and  papers  tied  into  sheaves  ;  in  the  third, 
with  many  other  tilings  (and  these  for  the  most  part 
clothes)  I  found  a  rusty,  ugly-looking  Highland  dirk 
without  the  scabbard.  This,  then,  I  concealed  inside  my 
waistcoat,  and  turned  to  my  uncle. 

He  lay  as  he  had  fallen,  all  huddled,  with  one  knee  up 
and  one  arm  sprawling  abroad  ;  his  face  had  a  strange 


KIDNAPPED.  37 

colour  of  blue,  and  he  seemed  to  have  ceased  breathing. 
Fear  came  on  me  that  he  was  dead  ;  then  I  got  water 
and  dashed  it  in  his  face ;  and  with  that  he  seemed  to 
come  a  little  to  himself,  working  his  mouth  and  flutter- 
ing his  eyelids.  At  last  he  looked  up  and  saw  me,  and 
there  came  into  his  eyes  a  terror  that  was  not  of  this 
world. 

''Come,  come,"  said  I,  "sit  up." 

''Are  ye  alive  ?"  he  sobbed.   "  0  man,  are  ye  alive  ?" 

" That  am  I,"  said  I.     "Small  thanks  to  you  ! " 

He  had  begun  to  seek  for  his  breath  with  deep  sighs. 
"The  blue  phial,"  said  he — "in  the  aumry — the  blue 
phial."     His  breath  came  slower  still. 

t  ran  to  the  cupboard,  and,  sure  enough,  found  there 
a  blue  phial  of  medicine,  with  the  dose  written  on  it  on 
a  paper,  and  this  I  administered  to  him  with  what  speed 
I  might. 

"It's  the  trouble,"  said  he,  reviving  a  little;  "I 
have  a  trouble,  Davie.     It's  the  heart." 

I  set  him  on  a  chair  and  looked  at  him.  It  is  true  I 
felt  some  pity  for  a  man  that  looked  so  sick,  but  I  was 
full  besides  of  righteous  anger ;  and  I  numbered  over 
before  him  the  points  on  which  I  wanted  explanation  : 
why  he  lied  to  me  at  every  word  ;  why  he  feared  that  I 
should  leave  him  ;  why  he  disliked  it  to  be  hinted  that 
he  and  my  father  were  twins — "Is  that  because  it  is 
true  ?"  I  asked  ;  why  he  had  given  me  money  to  which 
I  was  convinced  I  had  no  claim  ;  and,  last  of  all,  why  he 


38  KTDXAPPED. 

liiul  tried  to  kill  mo.  lie  lieiinl  me  all  through  in 
silence  ;  and  then,  in  a  broken  voice,  begged  me  to  let 
him  go  to  bed. 

"I'll  tell  ye  the  morn,''  he  said;  "  as  sure  as  death 
I  will." 

And  so  weak  was  lie  that  I  could  do  nothing  but  con- 
sent. I  locked  him  into  his  room,  however,  and  pocketed 
the  key  ;  and  then  returning  to  the  kitchen,  made  up 
such  a  blaze  as  had  not  shone  there  for  many  a  long 
year,  and  wrapping  myself  in  my  pliitl,  lay  down  npon 
the  chests  and  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  V. 

I    GO   TO   THE    queen's    FERRY. 

Much  rain  fell  in  the  ni^ht ;  and  the  next  morning 
there  blew  a  bitter  wintry  wind  out  of  the  north-west, 
driving  scattered  clouds.  For  all  that,  and  before  the 
Sim  began  to  peep  or  the  last  of  the  stars  had  vanished, 
Tmade  my  way  to  the  side  of  the  burn,  and  had  a  plunge 
in  a  deep  whirling  pool.  All  aglow  from  my  bath,  I 
sat  down  once  more. beside  the  fire,  which  I  replenished, 
and  began  gravely  to  consider  my  position. 

There  was  now  no  doubt  about  my  uncle's  enmity ; 
there  was  no  doubt  I  carried  my  life  in  my  hand,  and 
he  would  leave  no  stone  unturned  that  he  might  com- 
pass my  destruction.  But  I  was  young  and  spirited, 
and  like  most  lads  that  have  been  country-bred,  I  had 
a  great  opinion  of  my  shrcAvdness.  I  had  come  to  his 
door  no  better  than  a  beggar  and  little  more  than  a 
child  ;  he  had  met  me  with  treachery  and  violence ;  it 
would  be  a  fine  consummation  to  take  the  upper  hand, 
and  drive  him  like  a  herd  of  sheep. 

I  sat  there  nursing  my  knee  and  smiling  at  the  fire  ; 
and  I  saw  myself  in  fancy  smell  out  his  secrets  one 
after  another,  and  grow  to  be  that  man's  king  and  ruler. 
The  warlock  of  Essendean,  they  say,  had  made  a  mirror 


40  KIDNAPPED. 

in  whicli  men  could  read  the  future  ;  it  must  have  been 
of  other  stuff  than  burning  coal ;  for  in  all  the  shapes 
and  pictures  that  I  sat  and  gazed  at,  there  was  never  a 
ship,  never  a  seaman  with  a  hairy  cap,  never  a  big 
bludgeon  for  my  silly  head,  or  the  least  sign  of  all  those 
tribulations  that  were  ripe  to  fall  on  me. 

Presently,  all  swollen  with  conceit,  I  went  np-stairs 
and  gave  my  prisoner  his  liljerty.  He  gave  me  good 
morning  civilly  ;  and  I  gave  the  same  to  him,  smiling 
down  upon  him  from  the  heights  of  my  sufficiency. 
Soon  we  were  set  to  breakfast,  as  it  might  have  been 
the  day  before. 

*'Well,  sir,"  said  I,  with  a  jeering  tone,  "have  yon 
nothing  more  to  say  to  me  ?  "  And  then,  as  he  made 
no  articulate  reply,  "It  will  be  time,  I  think,  to  under- 
stand each  other,"  I  continued.  "You  took  me  for  a 
countjy  Johnnie  Eaw,  with  no  more  mother-wit  or 
courage  than  a  porridge-stick.  I  took  you  for  a  good 
man,  or  no  worse  than  others  at  the  least.  It  seems  we 
were  both  wrong.  What  cause  you  have  to  fear  me,  to 
cheat  me,  and  to  attempt  my  life " 

He  murmured  something  about  a  jest,  and  that  he 
liked  a  bit  of  fun  ;  and  then,  seeing  me  smile,  changed 
his  tone,  and  assured  me  he  would  make  all  clear  as 
soon  as  we  had  breakfasted.  I  saw  by  his  face  that  he 
had  no  lie  ready  for  me,  though  he  was  hard  at  work 
preparing  one  ;  and  I  think  I  was  about  to  tell  liiin  so, 
when  we  were  interrupted  by  a  knocking  at  the  door. 


KIDNAPPED.  41 

Bidding  my  uncle  sit  where  he  was,  I  went  to  open  it, 
and  found  on  tlie  doorstep  a  half-grown  boy  in  sea- 
clothes.  He  had  no  sooner  seen  me  than  he  began  to 
dance  some  steps  of  the  sea-hornpipe  (which  I  had 
never  before  heard  of,  far  less  seen)  snapping  his  fingers 
in  the  air  and  footing  it  right  cleverly.  For  all  that, 
he  was  blue  with  the  cold  ;  and  there  was  something  in 
his  face,  a  look  between  tears  and  laughter,  that  was 
highly  pathetic  and  consisted  ill  with  this  gaiety  of 
manner. 

"What  cheer,  mate?"  says  he,  with  a  cracked 
voice. 

I  asked  him  soberly  to  name  his  pleasure. 

*'  0,  pleasure  !  "  says  he  ;  and  then  began  to  sing  : 

"  For  it's  ray  delight,  of  a  shiny  night 
In  the  season  of  the  year. " 

"Well,"  said  I,  "if  you  have  no  business  at  all,  I 
will  even  be  so  unmannerly  as  shut  you  out." 

"  Stay,  brother  ! "  he  cried.  "  Have  you  no  fun 
about  you  ?  or  do  you  want  to  get  me  thrashed  ?  I've 
brought  a  letter  from  old  Heasy-oasy  to  Mr.  Belflower." 
He  showed  me  a  letter  as  he  spoke.  "And  I  say, 
mate,"  he  added,  "  I'm  mortal  hungry." 

"Well,**  said  I,  "come  into  the  house,  and  you  shall 
have  a  bite  if  I  go  empty  for  it." 

With  that  I  brought  him  in  and  set  him  down  to 
my  own  place,  where  he  fell-to  greedily  on  the  remaiais 


42  KIDNAPPED. 

of  breakfast,  winkino^  to  mo  between  whiles,  and  makinf? 
many  faces,  which  I  think  the  poor  soul  considered 
manly.  Meanwhile,  my  uncle  had  read  the  letter  and 
sat  thinking ;  then,  suddenly,  he  got  to  his  feet  with  a 
great  air  of  liveliness,  and  pulled  me  ai)art  into  the 
furthest  corner  of  the  room. 

''Read  that,"  said  he,  and  put  the  letter  in  my 
hand. 

Hero  it  is,  lying  before  me  as  I  write  : 

"  The  Hawes  Tnn,  at  tho  Queen's  Perry. 
"  Sir, — T  lie  hero  with  my  hawser  up  and  down,  and  send  niy 
cabin-boy  to  infornio.  If  you  have  any  I'urtlier  coininnnds  for 
ovor-scas,  to-day  will  he  the  last  occasion,  as  the  wind  will  serve 
us  well  out  of  the  firth.  I  will  not  seek  to  deny  that  I  have  had 
crosses  with  your  doer,*  Mr.  Rankeillor  ;  of  which,  if  not  speedily 
redd  up,  you  may  looke  to  see  some  losses  follow.  I  have  drawn 
a  bill  upon  you,  as  per  margin,  and  am,  sir,  your  most  obedt., 
humble  servant,  Elias  Hoseason." 

"You  see,  Davie,''  resumed  my  uncle,  as  soon  as  he 
saw  that  I  had  done,  "  I  have  a  venture  with  this  nuui 
Hoseason,  the  captain  of  a  trading  brig,  the  Covounit, 
of  Dysart.  Now,  if  you  and  me  was  to  walk  over  with 
yon  lad,  I  could  see  the  captain  at  the  Hawes,  or  maybe 
on  board  the  Covenant,  if  there  was  papers  to  be  signed  ; 
and  so  far  from  a  loss  of  time,  we  can  jog  on  to  the 
lawyer,  Mr.  Eankeillor's,  After  a'  that's  come  and 
gone,   ye   would    be   swier  f    to   believe   me   upon   my 

*  Agent.  f  Unwilling. 


KIDNAPPED.  43 

naked  word  ;  but  ye'll  can  believe  Eankeillor.  He's 
factor  to  half  the  gentry  in  these  jiarts  ;  an  auld 
man,  forby  :  highly  respeckit ;  and  he  kenned  your 
father." 

I  stood  awliile  and  tliought.  I  was  goiiig  to  some 
place  of  ship^iing,  which  was  doubtless  populous,  and 
where  my  uncle  durst  attemjit  no  violence,  and,  indeed, 
even  the  society  of  the  cabin-boy  so  far  protected  me. 
Once  there,  I  believed  I  could  force  on  the  visit  to  the 
lawyer,  even  if  my  uncle  were  now  insincere  in  propos- 
ing it ;  and  perhaps,  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  I 
wished  a  nearer  view  of  the  sea  and  ships.  You  are  to 
remember  I  had  lived  all  my  life  in  the  inland  hills,  and 
just  two  days  before  had  my  first  sight  of  the  firth 
lying  like  a  blue  floor,  and  the  sailed  ships  moving  on 
the  face  of  it,  no  bigger  than  toys.  One  thing  with 
another,  I  made  up  my  mind. 

*'  Very  well,"  says  I,  "  let  us  go  to  the  ferry." 

My  uncle  got  into  his  hat  and  coat,  and  buckled  an 
old  rusty  cutlass  on  ;  and  then  we  trod  the  fire  out, 
locked  the  door,  and  set  forth  upon  our  walk. 

The  wind,  being  in  that  cold  quarter,  the  north-west, 
blew  nearly  in  our  faces  as  we  went.  It  was  the  month 
of  June  ;  the  grass  was  all  white  with  daisies  and  the 
trees  with  blossom  :  but,  to  judge  by  our  blue  nails  and 
aching  wrists,  the  time  might  have  been  winter  and 
the  whiteness  a  December  fi'ost. 

Uncle  Ebcnezer  trudged  in  the  ditch,  jogging  from 


44  KTDXAPPET). 

side  to  side  like  an  old  ploughman  coming  home  from 
work.  He  never  said  a  word  the  whole  way  ;  and  I 
was  thrown  for  talk  on  the  cabin-boy.  He  told  me 
his  name  was  Ransome,  and  that  he  had  followed  the 
sea  since  he  was  nine,  but  could  not  say  how  old  he 
was,  as  he  had  lost  his  reckoning.  He  showed  me  tattoo 
marks,  baring  his  breast  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind  and 
in  spite  of  my  remonstrances,  for  I  thought  it  was 
enough  to  kill  him  ;  he  swore  horribly  whenever  he 
remembered,  but  more  like  a  silly  schoolboy  than  a 
man  ;  and  boasted  of  many  wild  and  bad  things  that  he 
had  done:  stealthy  thefts,  false  accusations,  ay,  and  even 
murder ;  but  all  with  such  a  dearth  of  likelihood  in  the 
details,  and  such  a  weak  and  crazy  swagger  in  the 
delivery,  as  disposed  me  rather  to  pity  than  to  believe 
him. 

I  asked  him  of  the  brig  (which  he  declared  was  the 
finest  ship  that  sailed)  and  of  Captain  Hoseason,  in 
whose  praise  he  was  equally  loud.  Heasy-oasy  (for  so 
he  still  named  the  skipper)  was  a  man,  by  his  account, 
that  minded  for  nothing  either  in  heaven  or  earth  ;  one 
that,  as  people  said,  would  "  crack  on  all  sail  into  the 
day  of  judgment ; "  rough,  fierce,  unscrupulous,  and 
brutal ;  and  all  this  my  poor  cabin-boy  had  taught  him- 
self to  admire  as  something  seamanlike  and  manly.  He 
would  only  admit  one  flaw  in  his  idol.  "  He  ain't  no 
seaman,*'  he  admitted.  "That's  Mr.  Shuan  that  navi- 
gates the  brig  ;  he's  the  finest  seaman  in  the  trade,  only 


KIDNAPPED.  45 

for  drink  ;  and  I  tell  you  I  believe  it !  Why,  look 
'ere  ; "  and  turning  down  his  stocking,  he  showed  me  a 
great,  raw,  red  wound  that  made  my  blood  run  cold. 
*'He  done  that — Mr.  Shuan  done  it,"  he  said,  with  an 
air  of  pride. 

*' What  !"  I  cried,  "do  you  take  such  savage  usage 
at  his  hands  ?  Why,  you  are  no  slave  to  be  so  handled  !" 

"No,"  said  the  poor  moon-calf,  changing  his  tune 
at  once,  "and  so  he'll  find  !  See  'ere  ;"  and  he  showed 
me  a  great  case-knife,  which  he  told  me  was  stolen. 
"0,"  says  he,  "let  me  see  him  try  ;  I  dare  him  to  ; 
I'll  do  for  him!  0,  he  ain't  the  first!"  And  he 
confirmed  it  with  a  poor,  silly,  ugly  oath. 

I  have  never  felt  such  a  pity  for  any  one  in  this  wide 
world  as  I  felt  for  that  lialf-witted  creature  ;  and  it 
began  to  come  over  me  that  the  brig  Covenant  (for  all 
her  pious  name)  was  little  better  than  a  hell  upon  the 
seas. 

*'  Have  you  no  friends  ?  "  said  I. 

He  said  he  had  a  father  in  some  English  seaport,  I 
forget  which.  "He  was  a  fine  man,  too,"  he  said; 
"but  he's  dead." 

*'  In  Heaven's  name,"  cried  I,  "  can  you  find  no 
reputable  life  on  shore  ?  " 

"  0,  no  ! "  says  he,  winking  and  looking  very  sly  ; 
"  they  would  put  me  to  a  trade.  I  know  a  trick  worth 
two  of  that,  I  do  !  " 

I  asked  him  what  trade  could  be  so  dreadful  as  the 


46  KIDNAPPED. 

one  he  followed,  where  he  ran  the  coiitinuiil  peril  of  his 
life,  not  alone  from  wind  and  sea,  but  by  the  horrid 
cruelty  of  those  who  were  his  masters.  lie  said  it  was 
very  true ;  and  then  began  to  praise  the  life,  and  tell 
what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  get  on  shore  with  money  in 
his  pocket,  and  spend  it  like  a  man,  and  buy  apples,  and 
swagger,  and  surprise  what  he  called  stick-in-the-mud 
boys.  "And  then  it's  not  all  as  bad  as  that,"  says 
he;  "there's  worse  off  than  me:  there's  the  twenty- 
pounders.  0,  laws  !  you  should  see  them  taking  on. 
Why,  I've  seen  a  man  as  old  as  you,  I  dessay  " — (to  him 
I  seemed  old) — "ah,  and  he  had  a  beard,  too — well, 
and  as  soon  as  we  cleared  out  of  the  river,  and  he  had 
the  drug  out  of  his  head— my  !  how  he  cried  and  car- 
ried on  !  I  made  a  fine  fool  of  him,  I  tell  you  !  And 
then  there's  little  uns,  too  :  0,  little  by  me  !  I  tell  you, 
I  keep  them  in  order.  When  we  carry  little  uns,  I  have 
a  rope's  end  of  my  own  to  wollo}>  'em."  And  so  he  ran 
on,  until  it  came  in  on  mc  that  what  he  meant  by 
twenty- pounders  Avcre  those  unhappy  criminals  who 
were  sent  over-seas  to  slavery  in  North  America,  or  the 
still  more  unhappy  innocents  who  were  kidnapped  or 
trepanned  (as  the  word  went)  for  ])rivate  interests  or 
vengeance. 

Just  then  we  came  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  looked 
down  on  the  ferry  and  the  hope.  Tiie  Firth  of  Forth 
(as  is  very  well  known)  narrows  at  this  point  to  tlie 
width   of  a  good-sized  river,   which   makes  a  couveu- 


KIDNAPPED.  -17 

ient  ferry  going  north,  and  turns  the  upper  reach 
into  a  land-locked  haven  for  all  manner  of  ships.  Right 
in  the  midst  of  the  narrows  lies  an  islet  with  some  ruins ; 
on  the  south  shore  they  have  built  a  pier  for  the  service 
of  the  ferry  ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  pier,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road,  and  backed  against  a  pretty  garden  of 
holly-trees  and  hawthorns,  I  could  see  the  building 
which  they  call  the  the  Hawes  Inn. 

The  town  of  Queensferry  lies  farther  west,  and  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  inn  looked  pretty  lonely  at  that 
time  of  day,  for  the  boat  had  just  gone  north  with  pas- 
sengers. A  skitf,  however,  lay  beside  the  pier,  Avith 
some  seamen  sleeping  on  the  thwarts;  this,  as  Ransome 
told  me,  was  the  brig's  boat  waiting  for  the  captain  ; 
and  about  half  a  mile  off,  and  all  alone  in  the  anchor- 
age, he  showed  me  the  Covenant  herself.  There  was  a 
sea-going  bustle  on  board  ;  yards  were  swinging  into 
place  ;  and  as  the  Avind  blew  from  that  quarter,  I  could 
hear  the  song  of  the  sailors  as  they  pulled  upon  the 
ropes.  After  all  I  had  listened  to  upon  the  Avay, 
I  looked  at  that  ship  with  an  extreme  abhorrence  ;  and 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  pitied  all  poor  souls 
that  were  condemned  to  sail  in  her. 

We  had  all  three  pulled  up  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  ; 
and  now  I  marched  across  the  road  and  addressed  my 
uncle.  "  I  think  it  right  to  tell  you,  sir,"  says  I, 
*'  there's  nothing  that  will  bring  me  on  board  that 
Covenant," 


48  KIDNAPPED. 

He  seemed  to  waken  from  a  dream.  "Eh?"  he 
said.     "What's  that?" 

I  told  him  over  again. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  we'll  have  to  please  ye,  I 
suppose.  But  what  are  we  standing  here  for  ?  It's 
perishing  cold  :  and  if  I'm  no  mistaken,  they're  busk- 
ing the  Covenant  for  sea." 


CHArTER  VI. 


WHAT    BEFELL   AT   THE   QUEEN  S   FERRY. 

As  soon  as  we  came  to  the  inn,  Ransome  led  us  up 
the  stair  to  a  small  room,  with  a  bed  in  it,  and  heated 
like  an  oven  by  a  great  fire  of  coal.  At  a  table  hard  by 
the  chimney,  a  tall,  dark,  sober-looking  man  sat  writ- 
ing. In  spite  of  the  heat  of  the  room,  he  wore  a  thick 
sea-jacket,  buttoned  to  the  neck,  and  a  tall  hairy  cap 
drawn  down  over  his  ears ;  yet  I  never  saw  any  man,  not 
even  a  judge  upon  the  bench,  look  cooler,  or  more  stu- 
dious and  self-possessed,  than  this  ship  captain. 

He  got  to  his  feet  at  once,  and  coming  forward, 
offered  his  large  hand  to  Ebenezer.  '•  I  am  proud  to 
see  you,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said  he,  in  a  fine  deep  voice, 
"and  glad  that  ye  are  here  in  time.  The  wind's  fair, 
and  the  tide  upon  the  turn  :  we'll  see  the  old  coal- 
bucket  burning  on  the  Isle  of  May  before  to-night." 

*' Captain  Hoseason,"  returned  my  uncle,  "you  keep 
your  room  unco'  hot." 

"It's  a  habit  I  have,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said  the  skipper. 
"I'm  a  cold-rife  man  by  my  nature;  I  have  a  cold 
blood,  sir.  There's  neither  fur,  nor  flannel — no,  sir, 
nor  hot  rum,  will  warm  up  what  they  call  the  tempera- 


50  KIDNAPPEI). 

turc.     Sir,  it's  the  same  with  most  men  tluit  have  been 
carbonadoed,  as  they  call  it,  in  ilic  tropic  seas." 

"Well,  well,  captain,"  replied  my  uncle,  "we  must 
all  be  the  way  we're  made." 

But  it  chanced  that  this  fancy  of  the  captain's  had  a 
great  share  in  my  misfortunes.  For  though  I  had 
promised  myself  not  to  let  my  kinsman  out  of  sight,  I 
was  both  so  impatient  for  a  nearer  look  of  the  sea,  and 
so  sickened  by  the  closeness  of  the  room,  that  when  he 
told  me  to  "run  down-stairs  and  play  myself  awhile,"  I 
was  fool  enough  to  take  him  at  his  word. 

Away  I  went,  therefore,  leaving  the  two  men  sitting 
down  to  a  bottle  and  a  great  mass  of  papers  ;  and  cross- 
ing the  road  in  front  of  tlic  inn,  walked  down  upon  the 
beach.  With  the  wind  in  that  quarter,  only  little 
wavelets,  not  much  bigger  than  I  had  seen  upon  a  lake, 
beat  upon  the  shore.  But  the  Avceds  were  new  to  me — 
some  green,  some  brown  and  long,  and  some  with  little 
bladders  that  crackled  between  my  fingers.  Even  so  far 
up  the  firth,  the  smell  of  the  sea  water  was  exceeding 
salt  and  stirring  ;  the  Covenant,  besides,  was  beginning 
to  shake  out  her  sails,  which  hung  upon  the  yards  in 
clusters  ;  and  the  spirit  oC  all  that  I  beheld  put  me  in 
thoughts  of  far  voyages  and  foreign  places. 

I  looked,  too,  at  the  seamen  with  the  skiff — big 
brown  fellows,  some  in  shirts,  some  with  jackets,  some 
with  coloured  handkerchiefs  about  their  throats,  one 
with  a  brace  of  pistols  stuck  into  his  pockets,  two  or 


KIDNAPPED,  51 

three  with  knotty  bludgeons,  and  all  with  their  case- 
knives.  I  passed  the  time  of  day  with  one  that  looked 
less  desperate  than  his  fellows,  and  asked  him  of  the 
sailing  of  the  brig.  He  said  they  would  get  under  way 
as  soon  as  the  ebb  set,  and  expressed  his  gladness  to  be 
out  of  a  port  where  there  Avere  no  taverns  and  fiddlers  ; 
but  all  with  such  horrifying  oaths,  that  I  made  haste  to 
get  away  from  him. 

This  threw  me  back  on  Ransome,  who  seemed  the 
least  wicked  of  that  gang,  and  who  soon  came  out  of  the 
inn  and  ran  to  me,  crying  for  a  bowl  of  jiunch.  I  told 
him  I  would  give  him  no  such  thing,  for  neither  he  nor 
I  was  of  age  for  such  indulgences.  "But  a  glass  of 
ale  you  may  have,  and  welcome,"  said  I.  He  mopped 
and  mowed  at  me,  and  called  me  names  ;  but  he  was 
glad  to  get  the  ale,  for  all  that ;  and  presently  we  were 
set  down  at  a  table  in  the  front  room  of  the  inn,  and 
both  eating  and  drinking  with  a  good  appetite. 

Here  it  occurred  to  me  that,  as  the  landlord  was  a 
man  of  that  country,  I  might  do  well  to  make  a  friend 
of  him.  I  offered  him  a  share,  as  was  much  the  custom 
in  these  days  ;  but  he  was  far  too  great  a  man  to  sit  with 
such  poor  customers  as  Eansome  and  myself,  and  he  was 
leaving  the  room,  when  I  called  him  back  to  ask  if  he 
knew  Mr.  Rankeillor. 

*'  Hoot,  ay,"  says  he,  "  and  a  very  honest  man.  And, 
0,  by-the-bye,"  says  he,  "  was  it  you  that  came  in  with 
Ebenezer  ?  "     And  when  I  had  told  him  yes,  "  Ye'll  be 


52  KIDNAPPED. 

Tio  fri(Mi(l   of  liis?"'    lio   luskecl,  juciUiiiiL;',  in  (hc8cotcli 
way,  that  1  would  Itc  no  relative. 

I  told  liini  no,  none. 

*'  I  thought  not,"  said  he  ;  "  and  yet  yc  have  a  kind 
of  gliff  *  of  Mr.  Alexander." 

I  said  it  seemed  that  El)onczer  was  ill-seen  in  the 
country. 

''Nac  doubt,"  said  the  landlord.  "He's  a  wicked 
auld  man,  and  there's  many  would  like  to  see  himgirn- 
ning  in  a  tow  :  f  Jennet  Clouston  and  mony  mair  that 
he  has  harried  out  of  house  and  hame.  And  yet  he  was 
ance  a  fine  young  fellow,  too.  But  that  was  before  the 
sough  I  gaed  abroad  about  Mr.  Alexander  ;  that  was 
like  the  death  of  him." 

"  And  what  was  it  ?"  I  asked. 

"  On,  just  that  he  had  killed  him,"  said  the  hmd- 
lord.     "  Did  ye  never  hear  that  ?  " 

"And  what  would  he  kill  him  for  ?  "  said  I. 

"  And  what  for,  but  just  to  get  the  place,"  said   he. 

"  The  place  ?  "  said  I.     "  The  Shaws  ?  " 

"Nae  other  place  that  I  ken,"  said  he. 

"Ay,  man  ?"  said  I.  "Is  that  so  ?  Was  my — was 
Alexander  the  eldest  son  ?  " 

'"Deed  was  he,"  said  the  landlord.  "What  else 
would  he  have  killed  him  for  ?" 

And  with  that  he  went  away,  as  lie  had  been  im- 
patient to  do  from  the  beginning. 

*  Look.  f  Rope.  I  Itcport. 


KIDNAPPED.  63 

Of  course,  I  had  guessed  it  a  long  while  ago  ;  but 
it  is  one  thing  to  guess,  another  to  know  ;  and  I  sat 
stunned  with  my  good  fortune,  and  could  scarce  grow 
to  believe  that  the  same  poor  lad  who  had  trudged  in 
the  dust  from  Ettrick  Forest  not  two  days  ago,  was  now 
one  of  the  rich  of  the  earth,  and  had  a  house  and  broad 
lands,  and  if  he  but  knew  how  to  ride,  might  mount 
his  horse  to-morrow.  All  these  pleasant  things,  and  a 
thousand  others,  crowded  into  my  mind,  as  I  sat  staring 
before  me  out  of  the  inn  window,  and  paying  no  lieed 
to  what  I  saw  ;  only  I  remember  that  my  eye  lighted 
on  Captain  Hoseason  down  on  the  pier  among  his  seamen, 
and  speaking  with  some  authority.  And  presently  he 
came  marching  back  towards  the  house,  with  no  mark 
of  a  sailor's  clumsiness,  but  carrying  his  fine,  tall  figure 
with  a  manly  bearing,  and  still  with  the  same  sober, 
grave  expression  on  his  face.  I  wondered  if  it  was 
possible  that  Ransome's  stories  could  be  true,  and  half 
disbelieved  them  ;  they  fitted  so  ill  with  the  man's 
looks.  But  indeed,  he  was  neither  so  good  as  I  sup- 
posed him,  nor  quite  so  bad  as  Ransomo  did  ;  for,  in 
fact,  he  was  two  men,  and  left  the  better  one  behind  as 
soon  as  he  set  foot  on  board  his  vessel. 

The  next  thing,  I  heard  my  uncle  calling  me,  and 
found  the  pair  in  the  road  together.  It  was  the  captain 
who  addressed  me,  and  that  with  an  air  (very  flattering 
to  a  young  lad)  of  grave  equality. 

*' Sir,"  said   he,  ''Mr.  Balfour  tells  me  great  things 


54  KIDNAPPED. 

of  you  ;  iiiul  for  my  own  ]);irt,  1  like  3'our  looks.  I 
wish  I  was  for  lou^ca-  here,  tluit  we  mijjht  make  the 
better  friends  ;  l)nt  we'll  make  the  most  of  what  we 
have.  Ye  shall  come  on  board  my  brig  for  half-an-hour, 
till  the  ebb  sets,  and  drink  a  bowl  with  me." 

Now,  I  longed  to  see  the  inside  of  a  ship  more  than 
words  can  tell  ;  but  1  was  not  going  to  put  myself  in 
jeopardy,  and  I  told  him  my  uncle  and  I  had  an  ap- 
pointment with  a  lawyer. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  he,  "he  passed  me  word  of  that. 
But,  ye  see,  theboat'll  set  ye  ashore  at  the  town  pier,  and 
that's  but  a  penny  stonecast  from  Rankeillor's  house." 
And  here  he  suddenly  leaned  down  and  whispered  in  my 
ear:  "Take  care  of  the  old  tod;*  he  means  mischief. 
Come  aboard  till  I  can  get  a  word  with  ye."  And  then, 
passing  his  arm  through  mine,  he  continued  aloud,  as  ho 
set  off  towards  his  boat :  "  But  come,  what  can  I  bring 
ye  from  the  Carolinas  ?  Any  friend  of  Mr.  Balfour's 
can  command.  A  roll  of  tobacco  ?  Indian  featherwork  ? 
A  skin  of  a  wild  beast  ?  a  stone  pipe  ?  the  mocking-bird 
that  mews  for  all  the  world  like  a  cat  ?  tlie  cardinal  bird 
Ihat  is  as  red  as  blood  ? — take  your  pick  and  say  your 
])leasure." 

By  this  time  we  were  at  the  boat-side,  and  he  was 
handing  me  in.  T  did  not  dream  of  hanging  back  ;  I 
thought  (the  poor  fool ! )  that  I  had  found  a  good  friend 
and  helper,  and  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  the  ship.     As  soon 


KIDNAPPED.  55 

as  we  were  all  set  in  our  places,  the  boat  was  thrust  off 
from  the  pier  and  began  to  move  over  the  waters  ;  and 
what  with  my  pleasure  in  this  new  movement  and  my 
surprise  at  our  low  position,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
shores,  and  the  growing  bigness  of  the  brig  as  we  drew 
near  to  it,  I  could  hardly  understand  what  the  captain 
said,  and  must  have  answered  him  at  random. 

As  soon  as  we  were  alongside  (where  I  sat  fairly 
gaping  at  the  ship's  height,  the  strong  humming  of  the 
tide  against  its  sides,  and  the  pleasant  cries  of  the  sea- 
men at  their  work)  lioseason,  declaring  that  he  and  I 
must  be  the  first  aboard,  ordered  a  tackle  to  be  sent 
down  from  the  main-yard.  In  this  I  was  whij^ped  into 
the  air  and  set  down  again  on  the  deck,  where  the 
captain  stood  ready  waiting  for  me,  and  instantly  slipped 
back  his  arm  under  mine.  There  I  stood  some  while,  a 
little  dizzy  with  the  unsteadiness  of  all  around  me, 
perhaps  a  little  afraid,  and  yet  vastly  pleased  with  these 
strange  sights  ;  the  captain  meanwhile  pointing  out  the 
strangest,  and  telling  me  their  names  and  uses. 

"  But  where  is  my  uncle  ?  "  said  I,  suddenly. 

"Ay,"  said  Hoseason,  with  a  sudden  grimness, 
''that's  the  point." 

I  felt  I  was  lost.  With  all  my  strength,  I  plucked 
myself  clear  of  him  and  ran  to  the  bulwarks.  Sure 
enough,  there  was  the  boat  pulling  for  the  town,  with 
my  uncle  sitting  in  the  stern.  I  gave  a  piercing  cry — 
*'Help,  help  I     Murder !  "—so   that   both    sides  of  the 


C)C)  KIDNAPPED. 

ancliorage  ran";  witli  it,  and  my  iinclo  turned  round 
whero  lie  was  sitting,  and  showed  ine  a  face  full  of 
cruelty  and  terror. 

It  was  the  last  I  saw.  Already  strong  hands  had 
been  plucking  me  back  from  the  shi|)'s  side  ;  and  now  a 
thunderbolt  seemed  to  strike  me  ;  I  saw  a  great  Hash  ot 
fire,  and  fell  senseless. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I   GO   TO   SEA    IN    THE    BRIG   "COVENANT"  OF    DYSART. 

I  CAME  to  myself  in  darkness,  in  groat  pain,  bound 
hand  and  foot,  and  deafened  by  many  unfamiliar  noises. 
There  sounded  in  my  ears  a  roaring  of  water  as  of 
a  huge  mill-dam  ;  the  thrashing  of  heavy  sprays,  tlie 
thundering  of  the  sails,  and  the  shrill  cries  of  seamen. 
The  whole  world  now  heaved  giddily  up,  and  now 
rushed  giddily  downward  ;  and  so  sick  and  hurt  was  I 
in  body,  and  my  mind  so  much  confounded,  that  it 
took  me  a  long  while,  chasing  my  thoughts  up  and 
down,  and  ever  stunned  again  by  a  fresh  stab  of  j)ain,  to 
realise  that  I  must  be  Ivino^  somewhere  bound  in  the 
belly  of  that  unlucky  ship,  and  that  the  wind  must  have 
strengthened  to  a  gale.  With  the  clear  perception  of 
my  plight,  there  fell  upon  me  a  blackness  of  despair,  a 
horror  of  remorse  at  my  own  folly,  and  a  passion  of  an- 
ger at  my  uncle,  that  once  more  bereft  me  of  my 
senses. 

When  I  returned  again  to  life,  the  same  uproar,  the 
same  confused  and  violent  movements,  shook  and  deaf- 
ened me  ;  and  presently,  to  my  other  pains  and  dis- 
tresses, there  was  added  the  sickness  of  an  unused  lands- 


58  KIDNArPED. 

man  on  Uio  soa,  Tti  tliai  time  of  my  adventurous  youth, 
I  sulTorod  many  liardslii])s  ;  hut  nono  that  was  so  crush- 
ini^  lo  my  mind  and  Ixxly,  or  lit  by  so  few  hopes,  as 
these  first  hours  on  board  tl\e  brig. 

I  heard  a  gun  fire,  and  supposed  the  storm  had  proved 
too  strong  for  us,  and  we  were  firing  signals  of  distress. 
The  thought  of  deliverance,  even  by  death  in  ihc  deep 
sea,  was  welcome  to  mo.  Yet  it  was  no  such  matter  ; 
hut  (as  I  was  afterwards  told)  a  common  habit  of  the 
captain's,  which  I  here  sot  down  to  show  that  even  the 
worst  man  may  have  his  kindlier  sides.  We  were  then 
passing,  it  appeared,  within  some  miles  of  Dysait, 
where  the  brig  was  built,  and  whore  old  Mrs.  Hoseason, 
the  captain's  mother,  luid  come  some  years  before  to 
live  ;  and  whether  outward  or  inward  bound,  the  Cove- 
nant was  never  suffered  to  go  by  that  place  by  day 
without  a  gun  fired  and  colours  shown. 

I  had  no  measure  of  time  ;  day  and  night  were  alike 
in  that  ill-smelling  cavern  of  the  ship's  bowels  where  I 
lay  ;  and  the  misery  of  my  situation  drew  out  the  hours 
to  double.  How  long,  therefore,  I  lay  waiting  to  hear 
the  ship  split  \ipon  some  rock,  or  to  feel  her  reel  head 
foremost  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,"  I  have  not  the 
means  of  computation.  But  sleep  at  length  stole  from 
me  the  consciousness  of  sorrow. 

I  was  wakened  liy  the  light  of  a  hand-lantern  shining 
in  my  face.  A  small  man  of  about  thirty,  Avith  green 
eyes  and  a  tangle  of  fair  hair,  stood  looking  down  at  me. 


KIDNAPPED.  59 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "how  goes  it  ?" 

I  answered  by  a  sob  ;  and  my  visitor  then  felt  my 
pulse  and  temples,  and  set  himself  to  wash  and  diess 
the  wound  upon  my  scalp. 

'^  Ay,"  said  he,  "a  sore  dunt.*  What,  man  ?  Cheer 
up  !  The  world's  no  done  ;  you've  made  a  bad  start  of 
it,  but  you'll  make  a  better.    Have  you  had  any  meat  ?  " 

I  said  I  could  not  look  at  it ;  and  thereupon  he  gave 
me  some  brandy  and  water  in  a  tin  pannikin,  and  left 
me  once  more  to  myself. 

The  next  time  he  came  to  see  me,  I  was  lying  be- 
twixt sleep  and  waking,  my  eyes  wide  open  in  the 
darkness,  the  sickness  quite  departed,  but  succeeded  by 
a  horrid  giddiness  and  swimming  that  was  almost  worse 
to  bear.  I  ached,  besides,  in  every  limb,  and  the  cords 
that  bound  me  seemed  to  be  of  fire.  The  smell  of  the 
hole  in  which  I  lay  seemed  to  have  become  a  part  of 
me  ;  and  during  the  long  interval  since  his  last  visit,  I 
had  suffered  tortures  of  fear,  now  from  the  scurrying  of 
the  ship's  rats  that  sometimes  pattered  on  my  very  face, 
and  now  from  the  dismal  imaginings  that  haunt  the 
bed  of  fever. 

The  glimmer  of  the  lantern,  as  a  trap  opened,  shone 
in  like  the  heaven's  sunlight ;  and  though  it  only 
showed  me  the  strong,  dark  beams  of  the  ship  that  was 
my  prison,  I  coiild  have  cried  aloud  for  gladness.  The 
man  with  the  green  eyes  was  the  first  to  descend  the 

*  Stroke. 


60  KIDNAPPED. 

ladder,  and  I  noticed  that  he  came  somewhat  unsteadily. 
lie  was  followed  \)y  the  captain.  Neither  said  a  word  ; 
but  the  first  set  to  and  examined  me,  and  dressed  my 
wound  as  before,  while  Iloseason  looked  me  in  my  face 
with  an  odd,  black  look. 

''Now,  sir,  you  see  for  3'onrsolf,"  said  the  first:  "a 
high  fever,  no  appetite,  no  light,  no  meat  :  you  see  for 
yourself  what  that  means." 

"I  am  no  conjurer,  Mr.  Riach,"  said  the  captain. 

"Give  me  leave,  sir,*'  said  Riach  ;  "you've  a  good 
head  upon  your  shoulders,  and  a  good  Scotch  tongue  to 
ask  with  ;  but  I  will  leave  you  no  manner  of  excuse  : 
I  want  that  boy  taken  out  of  this  liole  and  j)ut  in  the 
forecastle." 

"What  ye  may  want,  sir,  is  a  matter  of  concern  to 
nobody  Imt  yoursel',''  returned  the  captain  ;  "  but  I  can 
tell  ye  that  which  is  to  be.  Here  he  is  :  here  he  siiall 
bide."  ' 

"Admitting  that  you  have  been  paid  in  a  propor- 
tion," said  the  other,  "I  will  crave  leave  humbly  to 
say  that  I  have  not.  Paid  I  am,  and  none  too  much, 
to  bo  the  second  officer  of  this  old  tub  ;  and  you  ken 
very  well  if  I  do  my  best  to  earn  it.  But  1  was  paid 
for  nothing  more." 

"  If  ye  could  bold  back  your  hand  from  the  tin-pan, 
Mr.  Riach,  I  would  have  no  comi)laint  to  make  of  ye," 
returned  the  skip])er  ;  "and  instead  of  asking  riddles,  I 
make  bold   to  say  that  ye  would   kee])  your  l)reath  to 


KIDNAPPED.  61 

cool  your  porridge.  We'll  be  required  on  deck,"  he 
added,  in  a  sharper  note,  and  set  one  foot  upon  the 
ladder. 

But  Mr.  Riach  caught  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"Admitting  that  you  have  been  paid  to  do  a 
murder "  he  began. 

Hoseason  turned  upon  him  with  a  flash. 

"What's  that?"  he  cried.  "' What  kind  of  talk  is 
that  ?  " 

"  It  seems  it  is  the  talk  that  you  can  understand," 
said  Mr.  Riach,  looking  liim  steadily  in  the  face. 

"  Mr.  Riach,  I  have  sailed  with  ye  three  cruises," 
replied  the  captain.  "In  all  that  time,  sir,  ye  should 
have  learned  to  know  me  :  I'm  a  stiff  man,  and  a  dour 
man  ;  but  for  what  ye  say  the  now — fy,  fy  ! — it  comes 
from  a  bad  heart  and  a  black  conscience.  If  ve  sav  the 
lad  will  die " 

"Ay,  will  he  !"  said  Mr.  Riach. 

"Well,  sir,  is  not  that  enough?"  said  Hoseason. 
"  Flit  him  where  you  jjlease  !" 

Tiicreupon  the  captain  ascended  the  ladder  ;  and  I, 
who  had  lain  silent  throughout  this  strange  conversa- 
tion, beheld  Mr.  Riach  turn  after  him  and  bow  as  low 
as  to  his  knees  in  what  was  plainly  a  spirit  of  derision. 
Even  in  my  then  state  of  sickness,  I  perceived  two 
things  :  that  the  mate  was  touched  with  liquor,  as  the 
captain  hinted,  and  that  (drunk  or  sober)  he  was  like  to 
prove  a  valuable  friend. 


62  KIDNAPPED. 

Five  minutes  jiftcrwurds  my  bonds  were  cut,  I  was 
hoisted  on  u  man's  back,  carried  u])  to  tlie  forecastle, 
and  laid  in  a  bunk  on  some  sea-blankets  ;  where  the  first 
thing  that  I  did  was  to  lose  my  senses. 

It  was  a  blessed  thing  indeed  to  open  my  eyes  again 
upon  the  daylight,  and  to  find  myself  in  the  society  of 
men.  The  forecastle  was  a  roomy  place  enough,  set  all 
about  with  berths,  in  which  the  men  of  the  watch  below 
were  seated  smoking,  or  lying  down  asleep.  The  day 
being  calm  and  the  wind  fair,  the  scuttle  was  open,  and 
not  only  the  good  daylight,  but  from  time  to  time  (as 
the  ship  rolled)  a  dusty  beam  of  sunlight  shone  in,  and 
dazzled  and  delighted  me.  I  had  no  sooner  moved, 
moreover,  than  one  of  the  men  brought  me  a  drink  of 
something  healing  which  Mr.  Riach  had  prepared,  and 
bade  me  lie  still  and  I  should  soon  be  well  again. 
There  were  no  bones  broken,  he  exclaimed  :  "A  clour* 
on  the  head  was  nae thing.  Man,"  said  he,  ''  it  was  me 
that  gave  it  ye  !  " 

Here  I  lay  for  the  sjiace  of  numy  days  a  close 
prisoner,  and  not  only  got  my  health  again,  but  came  to 
know  my  companions.  They  were  a  rough  lot  indeed, 
as  sailors  mostly  arc  ;  being  men  rooted  out  of  all  the 
kindly  parts  of  life,  and  condemned  to  toss  together  on 
the  rough  seas,  with  miisters  no  less  cruel.  There  were 
some  among  them  that  had  sailed  with  the  pirates  and 
seen  things  it  would  be  a  shame  even  to  s})eak  of ;  some 

*  Blow. 


KIDNAPPEJ).  63 

were  men  that  had  run  from  the  king's  ships,  and  went 
Avith  a  halter  round  their  necks,  of  whicli  they  made  no 
secret;  and  all,  as  the  saying  goes,  were  "at  a  word  and 
a  blow  "  Avith  their  best  friends.  Yet  I  had  not  been 
many  days  shut  up  with  them  before  I  began  to  be 
ashamed  of  my  first  judgment,  when  I  luid  drawn  away 
from  them  at  the  Ferry  pier,  as  though  they  had  been 
unclean  beasts.  No  class  of  man  is  altogether  bad  ;  but 
each  has  its  own  faults  and  virtues ;  and  these  shipmates 
of  mine  were  no  exception  to  the  rule.  Eough  they 
were,  sure  enough ;  and  bad,  I  suppose  ;  but  they  had 
many  virtues.  They  were  kind  when  it  occurred  to 
them,  simple  even  beyond  the  simplicity  of  a  country 
lad  like  me,  and  had  some  glimmerings  of  honesty. 

There  was  one  man  of  maybe  forty,  that  would  sit  on 
my  berthside  for  hours,  and  tell  mo  of  his  wife  and 
child.  He  was  a  fisher  that  had  lost  his  boat,  and  thus 
been  driven  to  the  deep-sea  voyaging.  Well,  it  is  years 
ago  now  ;  but  I  have  never  forgotten  him.  His  wife 
(who  was  "  young  by  him,"  as  he  often  told  me)  waited 
in  vain  to  see  her  man  return  ;  he  would  never  again 
make  the  fire  for  her  in  the  morning,  nor  yet  keep  the 
bairn  when  she  was  sick.  Indeed,  many  of  these  poor 
fellows  (as  the  event  proved)  were  upon  their  last  cruise; 
the  deep  seas  and  cannibal  fish  received  them  ;  and  it  is 
a  thankless  business  to  speak  ill  of  the  dead. 

Among  other  good  deeds  that  they  did,  they  returned 
my  money  which  had  been  shared  among  them  ;    and 


64  KlDNAPl'EI). 

tliuugli  it.  Avas  uboiil  u  thirel  >siiurl,  J  was  very  yhul  to 
get  it,  and  liopcd  great  good  from  it  in  tlic  land  I  was 
going  to.  The  ship  was  bound  for  the  Carolinas  ;  and 
you  must  not  suppose  that  I  was  going  to  that  place 
merely  as  an  exile.  The  trade  was  even  then  much  de- 
pressed ;  since  that,  and  with  the  rebellion  of  the  colo- 
nies and  the  formation  of  the  United  States,  it  has,  of 
course,  come  to  an  end ;  hut  in  these  days  of  my  youth, 
white  men  were  still  sold  into  slavery  on  the  plantations, 
and  that  was  the  destiny  to  which  my  wicked  uncle  had 
condemned  me. 

The  cabin-boy  Ransomc  (from  whom  I  had  first 
heard  of  these  atrocities)  came  in  at  times  from  the 
round-house,  wliere  he  berthed  and  served,  now  nursing 
a  bruised  limb  in  silent  agony,  now  raving  against  the 
cruelty  of  Mr.  Shuan.  It  made  my  heart  bleed  ;  but 
the  men  had  a  great  respect  for  the  chief  mate,  who  was, 
as  they  said,  ''tlie  only  seaman  of  the  whole  jing-bang, 
and  none  such  a  bad  man  when  he  was  sober."  Indeed, 
I  found  there  was  a  strange  peculiarity  about  our  two 
mates  :  that  Mr.  liiach  was  sullen,  unkind,  and  harsh 
when  he  was  sober,  and  Mr.  Shuan  would  not  hurt  a 
fly  excejjt  when  he  was  drinking.  I  asked  about  the 
captain  ;  but  I  was  told  drink  made  no  difference  upon 
that  man  of  iron. 

I  did  my  best  in  the  small  time  allowed  me  to  make 
something  like  a  man,  or  rather  I  should  say  something 
like  a  boy,  of  the  poor  creature,  Ransome.   But  his  mind 


KIDNAPPED,  65 

was  scarce  truly  human.  He  could  remember  nothing 
of  the  time  before  he  came  to  sea  ;  only  that  his  father 
had  made  clocks,  and  had  a  starling  in  the  parlour,  which 
could  whistle  "  The  North  Countrie  ;  "  all  else  had  been 
blotted  out  in  these  years  of  hardship  and  cruelties.  He 
had  a  strange  notion  of  the  dry  land,  picked  up  from 
sailors'  stones  :  that  it  was  a  place  where  lads  were  put 
to  some  kind  of  slavery  called  a  trade,  and  where  appren- 
tices were  continually  lashed  and  clapped  into  foul 
prisons.  In  a  town,  he  thought  every  second  person  a 
decoy,  and  every  third  house  a  place  in  which  seamen 
would  be  drugged  and  murdered.  To  be  sure,  I  could 
tell  him  how  kindly  I  had  myself  been  used  upon  that 
dry  land  he  was  so  much  afraid  of,  and  how  well  fed 
and  carefully  taught  both  by  my  friends  and  my 
parents  :  and  if  he  had  been  recently  hurt,  he  would 
weep  bitterly  and  swear  to  run  away  ;  but  if  he  was  in 
his  usual  crackbrain  humour  or  (still  more)  if  he  had 
had  a  glass  of  spirits  in  the  round-house,  he  would 
deride  the  notion. 

It  was  Mr.  Kiach  (Heaven  forgive  him  !)  who  gave 
the  boy  drink  ;  and  it  was,  doubtless,  kindly  meant ;  but 
besides  that  it  was  ruin  to  his  health  ;  it  was  the 
pitifullest  thing  in  life  to  see  this  unhappy,  unfriended 
creature  staggering,  and  dancing,  and  talking  he  knew 
not  what.  Some  of  the  men  laughed,  but  not  all ;  others 
would  grow  as  black  as  thunder  (thinking,  perhaps,  of 
their  own  childhood  or  their  own  children)  and  bid  him 


66  KIDNAPPED. 

stop  that  nonsense,  and  think  what  he  was  doing.  As 
for  me,  I  felt  ashamed  to  look  at  him,  and  the  poor 
child  still  comes  about  me  in  my  dreams. 

All  this  time,  you  should  know,  the  Covenant  was 
meeting  continual  head-winds  and  tumbling  u])  and 
down  against  head-seas,  so  that  the  scuttle  was  almost 
constantly  shut,  and  tiio  forecastle  lighted  only  by  a 
swinging  lantern  on  a  beam.  There  was  constant  labour 
for  all  hands  ;  the  sails  had  to  be  made  and  shortened 
every  hour ;  the  strain  told  on  the  men's  temper ; 
there  \vas  a  growl  of  quarrelling  all  day  long  from  berth 
to  berth  ;  and  as  I  was  never  allowed  to  set  my  foot  on 
deck,  you  can  picture  to  yourselves  how  weary  of  my 
life  I  grew  to  be,  and  how  impatient  for  a  change. 

And  a  change  I  was  to  got,  as  you  shall  hear  ;  but 
I  must  first  tell  of  a  conversation  I  had  with  Mr.  Riach, 
which  put  a  little  heart  in  me  to  bear  my  troubles. 
Getting  him  in  a  favourable  stage  of  drink  (for  indeed 
he  never  looked  near  me  when  he  was  sober)  I  pledged 
him  to  secrecy,  and  told  him  my  whole  story. 

He  declared  it  was  like  a  ballad  ;  that  he  would  do 
his  best  to  help  me ;  that  I  should  have  paper,  pen,  and 
ink,  and  write  one  line  to  Mr.  Campbell  and  another  to 
Mr.  Rankeillor  ;  and  that  if  I  had  told  the  truth,  ten 
to  one  he  would  be  able  (with  their  help)  to  pull  me 
through  and  set  me  in  my  rights. 

"And  in  the  meantime,"  says  he,  "  keep  your  heart 
up.    You're  not  the  only  one,  I'll  tell  you  that.     There's 


KIDNAPPED.  67 

many  a  man  hoeing  tobacco  over-seas  that  should  be 
mounting  his  horse  at  his  own  door  at  home  ;  many  and 
many  !  And  life  is  all  a  variorum,  at  the  best.  Look 
at  me:  I'm  a  laird's  son  and  more  than  half  a  doctor, 
and  here  I  am,  man-Jack  to  Hoseason  ! " 

I  thought   it  would  be  civil  to  ask  him  for  his  story. 

He  whistled  loud. 

"  Never  had  one,"  said  he.  *'  I  liked  fun,  that's  all." 
And  he  skipped  out  of  the  forecastle. 


CHAPTER  VI J  I. 

TTTE    ROUND-HOUSE. 

One  night,  about  nine  o'clock,  ii  man  of  Mr.  Riach's 
watch  (which  was  on  deck)  came  down  for  his  jacket ; 
and  instantly  there  began  to  go  a  whisper  about  the 
forecastle  that  "  8hnan  had  done  for  him  at  last."  There 
was  no  need  of  a  name  ;  wo  all  knew  who  was  meant ; 
but  we  had  scarce  time  to  get  the  idea  rightly  in  our 
heads,  far  less  to  speak  of  it,  when  the  scuttle  was 
again  flung  open,  and  Ca])tain  Hoseason  came  down  the 
ladder.  He  looked  sharply  rouiul  the  bunks  in  the  toss- 
ing light  of  the  lantern  ;  and  tlien,  walking  straight  up 
to  me,  he  addressed  me,  to  my  surprise,  in  tones  of 
kindness. 

"My  man,"  said  he,  "we  want  ye  to  serve  in  the 
round-house.  You  and  Ransome  are  to  change  berths. 
Run  away  aft  with  ye." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  two  seamen  appeared  in  the 
scuttle,  carrying  Ransome  in  their  arms  ;  and  the  ship 
at  that  moment  giving  a  great  sheer  into  the  sea,  and 
the  lantern  swinging,  the  light  fell  direct  on  the  boy's 
face.  It  was  as  white  as  wax,  and  had  a  look  upon  it 
like  a  dreadful  smile.  The  blood  in  me  ran  cold,  and  I 
drew  in  my  breath  as  if  I  had  been  struck. 


KIDNAPPED.  69 

"Kim  away  aft;  run  away  aft  with  ye!"  cried 
Hoseason. 

And  at  that  I  brushed  by  the  sailors  and  the  boy 
(who  neither  spoke  nor  moved)  and  ran  up  the  ladder 
on  deck. 

The  brig  was  sheering  swiftly  and  giddily  through  a 
long,  cresting  swell.  She  was  on  the  starboard  tack, 
and  on  the  left  hand,  under  the  arched  foot  of  the  fore- 
sail, I  could  see  the  sunset  still  quite  bright.  This,  at 
such  an  hour  of  the  night,  surprised  me  greatly  ;  but  I 
was  too  ignorant  to  draw  the  true  conclusion — that  we 
were  going  north-about  round  Scotland,  and  were  now 
on  the  high  sea  between  the  Orkney  and  the  Shetland 
Islands,  having  avoided  the  dangerous  currents  of  the 
Pentland  Firth.  For  my  part,  who  had  been  so  long 
shut  in  the  dark  and  knew  nothing  of  head- winds,  I 
thought  we  might  be  half-way  or  more  across  the 
Atlantic.  And  indeed  (beyond  that  I  wondered  a  little 
at  the  lateness  of  the  sunset  light)  I  gave  no  heed  to  it, 
and  pushed  on  across  the  decks,  running  between  the 
seas,  catching  at  ropes,  and  only  saved  from  going  over- 
board by  one  of  the  hands  on  deck,  who  had  been  always 
kind  to  me. 

The  round-house,  for  which  I  was  bound  and  where 
I  was  now  to  sleep  and  serve,  stood  some  six  feet  above 
the  decks,  and  considering  the  size  of  the  brig,  was  of 
good  dimensions.  Inside  were  a  fixed  table  and  bench, 
and  two  berths,  one  for  the  captain  and  the  other  for  the 


70  '  KIDNAPPED. 

two  mates,  turn  and  turn  about.  It  was  all  fitted  with 
lockers  from  top  to  bottom,  so  as  to  stow  away  the 
officers'  belongings  and  a  part  of  the  ship's  stores  ;  there 
was  a  second  store-room  underneath,  which  you  entered 
by  a  hatchway  in  the  middle  of  the  deck  ;  indeed,  all 
the  best  of  the  meat  and  drink  and  the  whole  of  the 
powder  were  collected  in  this  place  ;  and  all  the  fire- 
arms, except  the  two  pieces  of  brass  ordnance,  were  set 
in  a  rack  in  the  aftermost  wall  of  the  round-house. 
The  most  of  the  cutlasses  were  in  another  place. 

A  small  window  with  a  shutter  on  each  side,  and  a 
skylight  in  the  roof,  gave  it  light  by  day  ;  and  after 
dark,  there  was  a  lamp  always  burning.  It  was  burn- 
ing when  I  entered,  not  brightly,  but  enough  to  show 
Mr.  Shuan  sitting  at  the  table,  with  the  brandy  bottle 
and  a  tin  pannikin  in  front  of  him.  He  was  a  tall  man, 
strongly  made  and  very  black  ;  and  he  stared  before  him 
on  the  table  like  one  stupid. 

He  took  no  notice  of  my  coming  in  ;  nor  did  he  move 
when  the  captain  followed  and  leant  on  the  berth  beside 
me,  looking  darkly  at  the  mate.  I  stood  in  great  fear  of 
Hoseason,  and  had  my  reasons  for  it  ;  but  something 
told  mc  I  need  not  be  afraid  of  him  just  then  ;  and  I 
whispered  in  his  car,  *' How  is  he?"  He  shook  his 
head  like  one  that  does  not  know  and  does  not  wish  to 
think,  and  his  face  was  very  stern. 

Presently  Mr.  Riach  came  in.  Me  gave  the  captain 
a  glance  that  meant  the  bov  was  dead  as  plain  as  speak- 


KIDNAPPED.  71 

ing,  and  took  his  place  like  the  rest  of  us  ;  so  that  we 
all  three  stood  without  a  word,  staring  down  at  Mr. 
Shuan,  and  Mr.  Shuan  (on  his  side)  sat  without  a  word, 
looking  hard  upon  the  table. 

All  of  a  sudden  he  put  out  his  hand  to  take  the 
bottle ;  and  at  that  Mr.  Riach  started  forward  and 
caught  it  away  from  him,  rather  by  surprise  than 
violence,  crying  out,  with  an  oath,  that  there  had  been 
too  much  of  this  work  altogether,  and  that  a  judgment 
would  fall  upon  the  ship.  And  as  he  spoke  (the  weather 
sliding-doors  standing  open)  he  tossed  the  bottle  into  the 
sea. 

Mr.  Slman  Avas  on  his  feet  in  a  trice  ;  he  still  looked 
dazed,  but  he  meant  muixler,  ay,  and  would  have  done 
it,  for  the  second  time  that  night,  had  not  the  captain 
stepped  in  between  him  and  his  victim. 

"  Sit  down  ! "  roars  the  captain.  "Ye  sot  and  swine, 
do  ye  know  what  ye've  done  ?  Ye've  murdei-ed  the 
boy!" 

Mr.  Shuan  seemed  to  understand  ;  for  he  sat  down 
again  and  put  up  his  hand  to  his  brow. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "he  brought  me  a  dirty  panni- 
kin !" 

At  that  Avord,  the  captain  and  I  and  Mr.  Riach  all 
looked  at  each  other  for  a  second  with  a  kind  of  fright- 
ened look  ;  and  then  Hoseason  walked  up  to  his  chief 
ofiScer,  took  him  by  the  shoulder,  led  him  across  to  his 
bunk,  and  bade  him  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,  as  you 


7-3  KIDNAPPED. 

might,  speak  to  a  bad  child.     The  murderer  cried  a  lit- 
tle, but  he  took  off  his  sea-boots  and  obeyed, 

''Ah!"  cried  Mr.  Eiach,  with  a  dreadful  voice,  '*ye 
should  have  interfered  long  syne.     It's  too  late  now." 

"Mr.  Riach,"  said  the  captain,  "this  night's  work 
must  never  be  kennt  in  Dysart.  The  boy  went  over- 
board, sir  ;  that's  what  the  story  is  ;  and  I  would  give 
five  pounds  out  of  my  pocket  it  was  true  ! "  He  turned 
to  the  table.  "What  made  ye  throw  the  good  bottle 
away  ? "'  he  added.  "There  was  nae  sense  in  that,  sir. 
Here,  David,  draw  me  another.  They're  in  the  bottom 
locker  ;  "  and  he  tossed  me  a  key.  "  Ye'll  need  a  glass 
yourself,  sir,"  he  added,  to  Kiach.  "Yon  was  an  ugly 
thing  to  see." 

So  the  pair  sat  down  and  hob-a-nobbed  ;  and  while 
they  did  so,  the  murderer,  who  had  been  lying  and 
whimpering  in  his  berth,  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow 
and  looked  at  them  and  at  me. 

That  was  the  first  night  of  my  new  duties  ;  and  in 
the  course  of  the  next  day  I  had  got  well  into  the  run 
of  them.  I  had  to  serve  at  the  meals,  which  the  cap- 
tain took  at  regular  hours,  sitting  down  with  the  officer 
who  was  off  duty  ;  all  the  day  through  I  would  be  run- 
ning with  a  dram  to  one  or  other  of  my  three  masters ; 
and  at  night  I  slept  on  a  blanket  thrown  on  the  deck 
boards  at  the  aftermost  end  of  the  round-house,  and 
right  in  the  draught  of  the  two  doors.  It  was  a  hard  and 
a  cold  bed  ;  nor  was  I  suffered  to  sleep  without  inter- 


KIDNAPPED.  73 

ruption ;  for  some  one  would  be  always  coming  in  from 
deck  to  get  a  di'am,  and  when  a  fresh  w^atch  was  to  be 
set,  two  and  sometimes  all  three  would  sit  down  and 
brew  a  bowl  together.  How  they  kept  their  health,  I 
know  not,  any  more  than  how  I  kept  my  own. 

And  yet  in  other  ways  it  was  an  easy  service.  There 
was  no  cloth  to  lay  ;  the  meals  were  either  of  oatmeal 
porridge  or  salt  junk,  except  twice  a  week,  when  there 
was  duff  :  and  though  I  was  clumsy  enough  and  (not 
being  firm  on  my  sea-legs)  sometimes  fell  with  what  I 
was  bringing  them,  both  Mr.  Riach  and  the  captain 
were  singularly  patient.  I  could  not  but  fancy  they 
were  making  up  lee- way  with  their  consciences,  and 
that  they  would  scarce  have  been  so  good  with  me,  if 
they  had  not  been  worse  with  Ransome. 

As  for  Mr.  Shuan,  the  drink,  or  his  crime,  or  the  two 
together,  had  certainly  troubled  his  mind.  I  cannot 
say  I  ever  saw  him  in  his  proper  wits.  He  never  grew 
used  to  my  being  there,  stared  at  me  continually  (some- 
times, I  could  have  thought,  with  ten'or)  and  more 
than  once  drew  back  from  my  hand  when  I  was  serving 
him.  I  was  pretty  sure  from  the  first  that  he  had  no 
clear  mind  of  what  he  had  done,  and  on  my  second  day 
in  the  round-house  I  had  the  proof  of  it.  We  were 
alone,  and  he  had  been  staring  at  me  a  long  time,  when, 
all  at  once,  up  he  got,  as  pale  as  death,  and  came  close 
up  to  me,  to  my  great  terror.  But  I  had  no  cause  to  be 
afraid  of  him. 


74  KIDNAPPED. 

"  You  were  not  here  before  ?  ''  lie  asked. 

"No,  sir,"  said  I. 

"There  was  another  boy?"  he  asked  again;  and 
when  I  had  answered  him,  "Ah  !*'  says  he,  "I  thought 
Huit/'aiid  went  and  sat  down,  without  anotlier  word, 
except  to  call  for  brandy. 

You  may  think  it  strange,  but  for  all  the  horror  I 
had,  I  was  still  sorry  for  him,  He  was  a  married  man, 
with  a  wife  in  Lcith  ;  but  whether  or  no  he  had  a 
family,  I  have  now  forgotten  ;  I  hope  not. 

Altogether  it  was  no  very  hard  life  for  the  time  it 
lasted,  which  (as  you  are  to  hear)  was  not  long.  I  was 
as  well  fed  as  the  best  of  them  ;  even  their  ]nckles, 
which  were  the  great  dainty,  I  was  allowed  my  share 
of;  and  had  I  liked,  I  might  have  been  drunk  from 
morning  to  night,  like  Mr,  Shuan.  I  had  company, 
too,  and  good  company  of  its  sort.  Mr.  Riach,  who 
had  been  to  the  college,  spoke  to  me  like  a  friend  when 
he  was  not  sulking,  and  told  me  many  curious  things, 
and  some  that  were  informing ;  and  even  the  captain, 
though  he  kept  me  at  the  stick's  end  the  most  i)art  of 
the  time,  would  sometimes  unbuckle  a  bit,  and  tell  me 
of  the  fine  countries  he  had  visited. 

The  shadow  of  poor  Ransome,  to  be  sure,  lay  on  all 
four  of  us,  and  on  me  and  Mr.  Shuan,  in  particular, 
most  heavily.  And  then  I  had  another  trouble  of  my 
own.  Here  I  was,  doing  dirty  work  for  three  men  that 
I  looked  down  upon,  and  one  of  whom,  at  least,  should 


KIDNAPPED.  75 

have  hung  upon  a  gallows;  that  was  for  the  present; 
aud  as  for  the  future,  I  could  only  see  myself  slaving 
alongside  of  negroes  in  the  tobacco  fields.  Mr.  Kiach, 
perhaps  from  caution,  would  never  suffer  me  to  say 
another  word  about  my  story ;  the  captain,  whom  I 
tried  to  approach,  rebuflfed  me  like  a  dog  and  would  not 
hear  a  word  ;  and  as  the  days  came  and  went,  my  heart 
sank  lower  and  lower,  till  I  was  even  glad  of  the  work, 
which  kept  me  from  thinking. 


CHAPTElt  IX. 

THE    MAN    WITH    THK    I5ELT    OF    GOLD. 

More  than  a  week  went  by,  in  which  the  ill-hick  that 
had  hitherto  pursued  the  Cove?ianf  upon  this  voyage 
grew  yet  more  strongly  marked.  Some  days  she  made 
a  little  way  ;  others,  she  was  driven  actually  back.  At 
last  we  were  beaten  so  far  to  the  south  that  we  tossed 
and  tacked  to  and  fro  the  whole  of  the  ninth  day,  within 
sight  of  Cape  Wrath  and  the  wild,  rocky  coast  on 
either  hand  of  it.  There  followed  on  that  a  council  of 
the  officers,  and  some  decision  which  I  did  not  rightly 
understand,  seeing  only  the  result  :  that  we  had  made  a 
fair  wind  of  a  foul  one  and  were  running  south. 

The  tenth  afternoon,  there  was  a  falling  swell  and  a 
thick,  wet,  white  fog  that  hid  one  end  of  the  brig  from 
the  other.  All  afternoon,  wiien  I  went  on  deck,  I  saw 
men  and  oflBcers  listening  hard  over  the  bulwarks — "for 
breakers,"  they  said  ;  and  though  I  did  not  so  much  as 
understand  the  word,  I  felt  danger  in  the  air  and  was 
excited. 

Maybe  about  ten  at  night,  I  was  serving  Mr.  Riach 
and  the  captain  at  their  supper,  when  the  ship  struck 
something  Avith  a  great  sound,  and  we  heard  voices 
singing  out.     My  two  masters  leaped  to  their  feet. 


KIDNAPPED. 


77 


'*  She's  struck,"  said  Mr.  Riach. 

'*No,  sir,"  said  the  captain.  ''We've  only  run  a 
boat  down." 

And  they  hurried  out. 

The  captain  was  in  the  right  of  it.  We  had  run 
down  a  boat  in  the  fog,  and  she  had  parted  in  the  midst 
and  gone  to  the  bottom  with  all.  her  crew,  but  one. 
This  man  (as  I  heard  afterwards)  had  been  sitting  in 
the  stern  as  a  passenger,  while  the  rest  were  on  the 
benches  rowing.  At  the  moment  of  the  blow,  the  stern 
had  been  thrown  into  the  air,  and  the  man  (having  his 
hands  free,  and  for  all  he  was  encumbered  with  a  frieze 
ovea-coat  that  came  below  his  knees)  had  leaped  up  and 
caught  hold  of  the  brig's  bowsprit.  It  showed  he  had 
luck  and  much  agility  and  unusual  strength,  that  he 
should  have  thus  saved  himself  from  such  a  pass.  And 
yet,  when  the  captain  brought  him  into  the  round- 
house, and  I  set  eyes  on  him  for  the  first  time,  he 
looked  as  cool  as  I  did. 

He  was  smallish  in  stature,  but  well  set  and  as 
nimble  as  a  goat ;  his  face  was  of  a  good  open  expres- 
sion, but  sunburnt  very  dark,  and  heavily  freckled  and 
pitted  with  the  small-pox  ;  his  eyes  were  unusually 
light  and  had  a  kind  of  dancing  madness  in  them,  that 
was  both  engaging  and  alarming  ;  and  when  he  took  off 
his  great-coat,  he  laid  a  pair  of  fine,  silver-mounted 
pistols  on  the  table,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  belted  with 
a  great  sword.     His  manners,  besides,  were  elegant,  and 


78  KIDNAPPED. 

ho  pledged  the  captain  handsomely.  Altogether  I 
thought  of  him,  at  the  first  sight,  that  here  was  a  man 
I  would  rather  call  my  friend  than  my  enemy. 

The  captain,  too,  was  taking  his  observations,  but 
rather  of  the  man's  clothes  than  his  person.  And  to 
be  sure,  as  soon  as  he  luul  taken  off  the  great-coat,  he 
showed  forth  mighty  fine  for  the  round-house  of  a 
merchant  brig  :  having  a  hat  with  feathers,  a  red  waist- 
coat, breeches  of  black  plush,  and  a  blue  coat  with  sil- 
ver buttons  and  iiandsome  silver  lace  :  costly  clothes, 
though  somewhat  spoiled  with  the  fog  and  being  slept 
in. 

"  I'm  vexed,  sir,  about  the  boat,"  says  the  captain. 

"  There  are  some  pretty  men  gone  to  the  bottom," 
said  the  stranger,  ''  that  I  would  rather  see  on  the  dry 
land  again  than  half  a  score  of  boats." 

"  Friends  of  yours  ?  "  said  Hoseason. 

"You  have  none  such  friends  in  your  country," 
was  the  reply.  "They  would  have  died  for  me  like 
dogs." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  still  watching  him, 
"there  are  more  men  in  the  wi»rld  than  boats  to  put 
them  in." 

"  And  that's  true  too,"  cried  the  other  ;  "  and  ye 
seem  to  be  a  gentleman  of  great  penetration," 

"I  have  been  in  France,  sir,"  says  the  captain  ;  so 
that  it  was  plain  he  meant  more  by  the  words  than 
showed  upon  tlic  face  of  them. 


KIDNAPPED.  '  79 

"  Well,  sir,"  says  the  other,  "  and  so  has  many  a 
pretty  man,  for  the  matter  of  that." 

*' No  doubt,  sir,"  says  the  captain  ;  "'and  fine 
coats. " 

"  Oho  !  "  says  the  stranger,  "  is  that  how  the  wind 
sets  ?  "     And  he  laid  his  hand  quickly  on  his  pistols. 

*' Don't  be  hasty,"  said  the  captain.  "Don't  do  a 
mischief,  before  ye  see  the  need  for  it.  Ye've  a  French 
soldier's  coat  upon  your  back  and  a  Scotch  tongue  in 
your  head,  to  be  sure  ;  but  so  has  many  an  honest 
fellow  in  these  days,  and  I  daresay  none  the  worse  of  it." 

"So?"  said  the  gentleman  in  the  fine  coat:  "are 
ye  of  the  honest  party  ?  "  (meaning,  Was  he  a  Jacobite  ? 
for  eacli  side,  in  these  sort  of  civil  broils,  takes  the 
name  of  honesty  for  its  own). 

"  Why,  sir,"  replied  the  captain,  "  I  am  a  true-blue 
Protestant,  and  I  thank  God  for  it."  (It  was  the  first 
word  of  any  religion  I  had  ever  heard  from  him,  but  I 
learnt  afterwards  he  was  a  great  church-goer  while  on 
shore.)  "But,  for  all  that,"  says  he,  "I  can  be  sorry 
to  see  another  man  with  his  back  to  the  wall." 

"  Can  ye  so,  indeed  ?  "  asks  the  Jacobite.  "  Well,  sir, 
to  be  quite  plain  with  ye,  I  am  one  of  those  honest 
gentlemen  that  were  in  trouble  about  the  years  forty-five 
and  six  ;  and  (to  be  still  quite  plain  with  ye)  if  I  get 
into  the  hands  of  any  of  the  red-coated  gentry,  it's  like 
it  would  go  hard  with  me.  Now,  sir,  I  was  for  France; 
and  there  was  a  French  ship  cruising  here  to  pick  me 


80  KIDNAPPED. 

up  ;  but  she  gave  us  tlie  go-by  in  the  fog — as  I  wish 
from  the  heart  that  ye  had  done  yoursel'  !  And  the 
best  that  I  can  say  is  this :  If  ye  can  set  me  ashore 
where  I  was  going,  I  luivo  that  upon  me  will  reward 
you  highly  for  your  trouble." 

"In  France?"  says  the  captain.  *' No,  sir;  that  I 
cannot  do.  lint  where  ye  come  from — we  might  talk 
of  that." 

And  then,  unhappily,  he  observed  me  standing  in  my 
corner,  and  packed  me  off  to  the  galley  to  get  supper 
for  the  gentleman.  I  lost  no  time,  I  promise  you  ; 
and  when  I  came  back  into  the  round-house,  I  found 
the  gentleman  had  taken  a  money-belt  from  aljout 
his  waist,  and  poured  out  a  guinea  or  two  upon  the 
table.  The  captain  was  looking  at  the  guineas,  and 
then  at  the  belt,  and  then  at  the  gentleman's  face  ;  and 
I  thought  he  seemed  excited. 

"  Half  of  it,"  he  cried,   "  and  I'm  your  man  !  " 

The  other  swept  back  the  guineas  into  the  belt,  and 
put  it  on  again  under  his  waistcoat.  ''I  have  told  ye, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  that  not  one  doit  of  it  belongs  to  me. 
It  belongs  to  my  chief  tain  " — and  here  he  touched  his 
hat — "and  while  I  would  be  but  a  silly  messenger  to 
grudge  some  of  it  that  the  rest  might  come  safe,  I 
should  show  myself  a  hound  indeed  if  I  bought  my 
own  carcase  any  too  dear.  Thirty  guineas  on  the  sea- 
side, or  sixty  if  ye  set  rae  on  the  Linnhe  Loch.  Take  it, 
if  ye  will  ;  if  not,  ye  can  do  your  worst." 


KIDNAPPED.  81 

"Ay,"  said  Hoseason.  ''And  if  I  give  ye  over  to 
the  soldiers  ?  " 

"Ye  would  make  a  fool's  bargain,"  said  the  other. 
"My  chief,  let  me  tell  you,  sir,  is  forfeited,  like  every 
honest  man  in  Scotland.  His  estate  is  in  the  hands  of 
the  man  they  call  King  George  ;  and  it  is  his  officers 
that  collect  the  rents,  or  try  to  collect  them.  But  for 
the  honour  of  Scotland,  the  poor  tenant  bodies  take  a 
thought  upon  their  chief  lying  in  exile ;  and  this 
money  is  a  part  of  that  very  rent  for  which  King  George 
is  looking.  Now,  sir,  ye  seem  to  me  to  be  a  man  that 
understands  things  :  bring  this  money  within  the  reach 
of  Government,  and  how  much  of  it  '11  come  to  you  ?" 

"Little  enough,  to  be  sure,"  said  Hoseason;  and 
then,  "If  they  knew,"  he  added,  dryly.  "But  1  think, 
if  I  was  to  try,  that  I  could  hold  my  tongue  about  it." 

"Ah,  but  I'll  begowk*  ye  there  !"  cried  the  gentle- 
man. "  Play  me  false,  and  I'll  play  you  cunning.  If 
a  hand's  laid  upon  me,  they  shall  ken  what  money  it  is." 

"Well,"  returned  the  captain,  "what  must  be  must. 
Sixty  guineas,  and  done.     Here's  my  hand  upon  it." 

"  And  here's  mine,"  said  the  other. 

And  thereupon  the  captain  went  out  (rather  hur- 
riedly, I  thought),  and  left  me  alone  in  the  round-liouse 
with  the  stranger. 

At  that  period  (so  soon  after  the  forty-five)  there 
were  many  exiled  gentlemen  coming  back  at  the  peril  of 

*  Befool. 


82  KIDNAPPED. 

their  lives,  either  to  see  their  friends  or  to  collect  a  little 
money ;  and  as  for  the  Highland  chiefs  that  had  been 
forfeited,  it  was  a  common  matter  of  talk  how  their 
tenants  would  stint  themselves  to  send  them  money,  and 
their  clansmen  outface  the  soldiery  to  get  it  in,  and  run 
the  gauntlet  of  our  great  navy  to  carry  it  across.  All 
this  I  had,  of  course,  heard  tell  of  ;  and  now  I  had  a 
man  under  my  eyes  whose  life  was  forfeit  on  all  those 
counts  and  upon  one  more  ;  for  he  was  not  only  a  rebel 
and  a  smuggler  of  rents,  but  had  taken  service  with 
King  Louis  of  France.  And  as  if  all  this  were  not 
enough,  he  had  a  belt  full  of  golden  guineas  round  his 
loins.  Whatever  my  opinions,  I  could  not  look  on  such 
a  man  without  a  lively  interest. 

"  And  so  you're  a  Jacobite  ?"  said  I,  as  I  set  meat 
before  him. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  beginning  to  oat.  "And  you,  by 
your  long  face,  should  be  a  Whig  ?  "  * 

"  Betwixt  and  between,"  said  I,  not  fo  annoy  him  ; 
for  indeed  I  was  as  good  a  Whig  as  Mr.  Campbell  could 
make  me. 

"And  that's  naething,"  said  he.  "But  I'm  saying, 
Mr.  Betwixt-and-Between,"  he  added,  "this  bottle  of 
yours  is  dry  ;  and  it's  hard  if  I'm  to  pay  sixty  guineas 
and  be  gi'udged  a  dram  ui)ou  the  back  of  it." 

*  Whig  or  Whigamore  was  the  cant  name  for  those  who  were 
loyal  to  King  George. 


KIDNAPPED.  83 

"  I'll  go  and  ask  for  the  key,"  said  I  and  stepped  on 
deck. 

The  fog  was  as  close  as  ever,  but  the  swell  almost 
down.  They  had  laid  the  brig  to,  not  knowing  precisely 
where  they  were,  and  the  Avind  (what  little  there  was  of 
it)  not  serving  well  for  their  true  course.  Some  of  the 
hands  were  still  hearkening  for  breakers  ;  but  the  captain 
and  the  two  officers  were  in  the  waist  with  their  heads 
together.  It  struck  me,  I  don't  know  why,  that  they 
were  after  no  good  ;  and  the  first  word  I  heard,  as  I 
drew  softly  near,  more  than  confirmed  me. 

It  was  Mr.  Riach,  crying  out  as  if  upon  a  sudden 
thought : 

"  Couldn't  we  wile  him  out  of  the  round-house  ?  " 

*' He's  better  where  he  is,"  returned  Hoseason  ;  '^le 
hasn'  room  to  use  his  sword." 

"^  Well,  that's  true,"  said  Eiach  ;  "but  he's  hai'd  to 
come  at." 

"  Hut !"  said  Hoseason.  ''We  can  get  the  man  in 
talk,  one  upon  each  side,  and  pin  him  by  the  two  arms ; 
or  if  that'll  not  hold,  sir,  we  can  make  a  run  by  both 
the  doors  and  get  him  under  hand  before  he  has  the 
time  to  draw." 

At  this  hearing,  I  was  seized  with  both  fear  and 
anger  at  these  treacherous,  greedy,  bloody  men  that  I 
sailed  with.  My  first  mind  was  to  run  away  ;  my  second 
was  bolder. 

*' Captain,"   said   I,    ''the   gentleman    is  seeking  a 


84  KIDNAPPED. 

dram,  aud  tl)e  bottle's  out.  \\  ill  you  give  me  the 
key  ?  " 

They  all  started  and  turned  about. 

"  Why,  here's  our  chance  to  get  the  firearms  !  "  Riach 
cried  ;  and  then  to  me  :  "Hark  ye,  David,"  lie  said, 
"  do  ye  ken  where  the  pistols  are  ?  " 

''Ay,  ay,"  put  in  Iloseason.  "David  kens  ;  David's 
a  good  lad.  Ye  see,  David  my  man,  yon  wild  Hieland- 
man  is  a  danger  to  the  ship,  besides  being  a  rank  foe  to 
King  George,  God  bless  him  !  " 

I  had  never  been  so  be-Davided  since  I  came  on 
board ;  but  I  said  yes,  as  if  all  I  heard  were  (piite 
natural. 

"The  trouble  is,"  resumed  the  captain,  "that  all  our 
firelocks,  gj'eat  and  little,  are  in  the  round-house  under 
this  man's  nose  ;  likewise  the  powder.  Now,  if  I,  or  one 
of  the  officers,  was  to  go  in  and  take  them,  he  would  fall 
to  thinking.  But  a  lad  like  yon,  David,  might  snap  up 
a  horn  and  a  pistol  or  two  without  remark.  And  if  ye 
can  do  it  cleverly,  I'll  ])oar  it  in  mind  when  it'll  be  good 
for  you  to  have  friends  ;  and  that's  when  we  come  to 
Carolina." 

Here  Mr.  Riach  whispered  him  a  little. 

*'Very  right,  sir,"  said  the  captain;  and  then  to 
myself:  "And  see  hero,  David,  yon  man  has  a  beltt'ul 
of  gold,  and  I  give  you  my  word  that  you  shall  have 
your  fingers  in  it." 

I   told  him   I  wouhl  do  as   he  wished,  though  indeed 


KIDNAPPED.  85 

I  had  scarce  breath  to  speak  wi  th  ;  and  upon  that  he 
gave  me  the  key  of  the  spirit  locker,  and  I  began  to  go 
slowly  back  to  the  round-house.  What  was  I  to  do  ? 
They  were  dogs  and  thieves  ;  they  had  stolen  me  from 
my  own  country;  they  had  killed  poor  Ransome  ;  and 
was  I  to  hold  the  candle  to  another  murder  ?  But  then, 
upon  the  other  hand,  there  was  the  fear  of  death  very 
plain  before  me  ;  for  what  could  a  boy  and  a  man,  if 
they  were  as  brave  as  lions,  against  a  whole  ship's  com- 
pany ? 

I  was  still  arguing  it  back  and  forth,  and  getting  no 
great  clearness,  when  I  came  into  the  round-house  and 
saw  the  Jacobite  eating  his  supper  under  the  lamp  ;  and 
at  that  my  mind  was  made  up  all  in  a  moment.  I  have 
no  credit  by  it ;  it  was  by  no  choice  of  mine,  but  as  if 
by  compulsion,  that  I  walked  right  up  to  the  table  and 
put  my  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Do  ye  want  to  be  killed  ?  "  said  I. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  looked  a  question  at  me 
as  clear  as  if  he  had  spoken. 

"0  !"  cried  I,  "they're  all  murderers  here;  it's  a 
ship  full  of  them  !  They've  murdered  a  boy  already. 
-Now  it's  you." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  he  ;  "  but  they  haven't  got  me  yet." 
And  then  looking  at  me  curiously,  "  Will  ye  stand  with 
me?" 

"That  will  I  !"  said  I.  "I  am  no  thief,  nor  yet 
murderer.     I'll  stand  by  you." 


86  KIDNAPPED. 

"  Why,  then,"  said  he,  "  what's  your  name  ?" 

"David  Balfour,"  said  I  ;  and  then  thinking  that  a 
man  with  so  fine  a  coat  must  like  fine  people,  I  added 
for  the  first  time  '*  of  Shaws." 

It  never  occurred  to  him  to  doubt  me,  for  a  High- 
lander is  used  to  see  great  gentlefolk  in  great  poverty; 
but  as  he  had  no  estate  of  his  own,  my  words  nettled 
a  very  childish  vanity  he  had. 

"My  name  is  Stewart,"  he  said,  drawing  himself  up. 
"Alan  Breck,  they  call  mo.  A  king's  name  is  good 
enough  for  me,  though  I  bear  it  plain  and  have  the 
name  of  no  farm-midden  to  clap  to  the  hind-end  of  it." 

And  having  administered  this  rebuke,  as  though  it 
were  something  of  a  chief  importance,  he  turned  to 
examine  our  defences. 

The  round-house  was  built  very  strong,  to  support  the 
breachings  of  the  seas.  Of  its  five  apertures,  only  the 
skylight  and  the  two  doors  were  large  enough  for  the 
passage  of  a  man.  The  doors,  besides,  could  be  drawn 
close  :  they  were  of  stout  oak,' and  ran  in  grooves,  and 
were  fitted  with  hooks  to  keep  them  either  shut  or  open, 
as  the  need  arose.  The  one  that  was  already  shut,  I 
secured  in  this  fashion  ;  but  when  I  was  proceeding  to 
slide  to  the  other,  Alan  stopped  me. 

"  David,"  said  he — "for  I  cannae  bring  to  mind  the 
name  of  your  landed  estate,  and  so  will  make  so  bold  as 
call  you  David — that  door,  being  open,  is  the  best  part 
of  my  defences," 


KIDNAPPED.  87 

**  It  would  be  yet  better  shut,"  says  I. 

*'Not  so,  David,"  says  he.  ''Ye  see,  I  have  but  one 
face  ;  but  so  long  as  that  door  is  open  and  my  face  to  it, 
the,  best  jiart  of  my  enemies  will  be  in  front  of  me, 
where  I  would  aye  wish  to  find  them." 

Then  he  gave  me  from  the  rack  a  cutlass  (of  which 
there  were  a  few  besides  the  firearms),  choosing  it  with 
great  care,  shaking  his  head  and  saying  he  had  never  in 
all  his  life  seen  poorer  weapons  ;  and  next  he  set  me 
down  to  the  table  with  a  powder-horn,  a  bag  of  bullets, 
and  all  the  pistols,  which  he  bade  me  charge. 

'*  And  that  will  be  better  work,  let  me  tell  you," 
said  he,  "for  a  gentleman  of  decent  birth,  than  scrap- 
ing plates  and  raxing  *  drams  to  a  wheen  tarry 
sailors." 

Thereupon  he  stood  up  in  the  midst  with  his  face  to 
the  door,  and  drawing  his  great  sword,  made  trial  of  the 
room  he  had  to  wield  it  in. 

"  I  must  stick  to  the  point,"  he  said,  shaking  his 
head  ;  "  and  that's  a  pity,  too.  It  doesn't  set  my  genius, 
which  is  all  for  the  upper  guard.  And  now,"  said  he, 
"  do  you  keep  on  charging  the  pistols,  and  give  heed  to 
me." 

I  told  him  I  would  listen  closely.  My  chest  was 
tight,  my  mouth  dry,  the  light  dark  to  my  eyes  ;  the 
thought  of  the  numbers  that  were  soon  to  leap  in  upon 
us  kept  my  heart  in  a  flutter  ;  and  the  sea,  which  I 

*  Reaching. 


88  KIDNAPPED. 

heard  wasliing  round  tlic  brig,  and  where  I  thouglit  my 
dead  body  would  be  cast  ere  morning,  ran  in  my  mind 
strangely. 

"First  of  all,"  said  he,  "how  many  are  against  us  ?" 

I  reckoned  them  up  ;  and  such  was  the  hurry  of  my 
mind,  I  had  to  cast  the  numbers  twice.  "Fifteen," 
said  I. 

Alan  whistled.  "Well,"  said  he,  "that  can't  be 
cured.  And  now  follow  me.  It  is  my  part  to  keep 
this  door,  where  I  look  for  the  main  battle.  In  that, 
ye  have  no  hand.  And  mind  and  dinnac  fire  to  this 
side  unless  they  get  me  down  ;  for  I  would  rather  have 
ten  foes  in  front  of  me  than  one  friend  like  you  cracking 
pistols  at  my  back." 

I  told  him,  indeed  I  was  no  great  shot. 

"And  that's  very  bravely  said,"  he  cried,  in  a  great 
admiration  of  my  candour.  "There's  many  a  pretty 
gentleman  that  wouldnae  dare  to  say  it." 

"But  then,  sir,"  said  I,  "there  is  the  door  behind 
you,  which  they  may  perhaps  break  in." 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "and  that  is  a  part  of  your  work. 
No  sooner  the  pistols  charged,  than  ye  must  climb  up 
into  yon  bed  where  ye're  handy  at  the  window  ;  aud  if 
they  lift  hand  against  the  door,  ye're  to  shoot.  But 
that's  not  all.  Let's  make  a  bit  of  a  soldier  of  ye, 
David.     What  else  have  ye  to  guard  ?  " 

"There's  the  skylight,"  said  I.  "But  indeed,  Mr. 
Stewart,  I  would  need  to  have  eyes  upon  both  sides  to 


KIDNAPPED.  89 

keep  the  two  of  them  ;  for  when  my  face  is  at  the  one, 
my  back  is  to  the  other." 

"And  that's  very  true,"  said  Alan.  "Bat  have  ye 
no  ears  to  your  head  ?  " 

"To  be  sure  !"  cried  I.  "I  must  hear  the  bursting 
of  the  glass  !  " 

"  Ye  have  some  rudiments  of  sense,"  said  Alan, 
grimly. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE   SIEGE    OF   THE    ROUND-HOUSE. 

But  now  our  time  of  truce  was  come  to  nn  end.  Those 
on  deck  had  waited  for  my  coming  till  they  grew  im- 
patient ;  and  scarce  had  Alan  spoken,  when  the  captain 
showed  face  in  the  open  door. 

''Stand  !"  cried  x\lan,  and  pointed  his  sword  at  him. 

The  captain  stood,  indeed  ;  but  he  neither  winced 
nor  drew  back  a  foot. 

"A  naked  sword?"  says  he.  "This  is  a  strange 
return  for  hospitality." 

"Do  you  see  me?"  said  Alan.  "I  am  come  of 
kings ;  I  bear  a  king's  name.  My  badge  is  the  oak. 
Do  ye  see  my  sword  ?  It  has  slashed  the  heads  off  mair 
Whigamores  than  you  have  toes  upon  your  feet.  Call 
up  your  vermin  to  your  back,  sir,  and  fall  on  !  The 
sooner  the  clash  l)egins,  the  sooner  ye'll  taste  this  steel 
throughout  your  vitals." 

The  captain  said  nothing  to  Alan,  but  he  looked 
over  at  me  with  an  ugly  look.  "David,"  said  he,  "  I'll 
mind  this ; "  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  went  through 
me  with  a  jar. 


KIDNAPPED.  91 

Next  moment  he  was  gone. 

"And  now,"  said  Alan,  "let  your  hand  keep  your 
head,  for  the  grip  is  coming." 

Alan  drew  a  dirk,  which  he  held  in  his  left  hand  in 
case  they  should  run  in  under  his  sword.  I,  on  my 
part,  clambered  up  into  the  berth  with  an  armful  of 
pistols  and  something  of  a  heavy  heart,  and  set  open 
the  window  where  I  was  to  watch.  It  was  a  small  part 
of  the  deck  that  I  could  overlook,  but  enough  for  our 
purpose.  The  sea  had  gone  down,  and  the  wind  was 
steady  and  kept  the  sails  quiet ;  so  that  there  was  a 
great  stillness  in  the  ship,  in  which  I  made  sure  I  heard 
the  sound  of  muttering  voices.  A  little  after,  and  there 
came  a  clash  of  steel  upon  the  deck,  by  which  I  knew 
they  were  dealing  out  the  cutlasses  and  one  had  been  let 
fall  ;  and  after  that  silence  again. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  was  what  you  call  afraid  ;  but 
my  heart  beat  like  a  bird's,  both  quick  and  little  ;  and 
there  was  a  dimness  came  before  my  eyes  which  I  con- 
tinually rabbed  away,  and  which  continually  returned. 
As  for  hope,  I  had  none  ;  but  only  a  darkness  of  despair 
and  a  sort  of  anger  against  all  the  world  that  made  me 
long  to  sell  my  life  as  dear  as  I  was  able.  I  tried  to 
pray,  I  remember,  but  that  same  hurry  of  my  mind, 
like  a  man  running,  would  not  suffer  me  to  think  upon 
the  words  ;  and  my  chief  wish  was  to  have  the  thing 
begin  and  be  done  with  it. 

It  came  all  of  a  sudden  when  it  did,  with  a  rush  of 


92  KIDNAPPED. 

feet  and  a  roar,  and  then  a  shout  from  Alan,  and  a 
sound  of  blows  and  some  one  crying  out  as  if  hurt.  I 
looked  back  over  my  shoulder,  and  saw  Mr.  Shuan  in 
the  doorway,  crossing  blades  with  Alan. 

"That's  him  tliat  killed  the  boy !  "  I  cried. 

"Look  to  your  window!"  said  Alan;  and  as  I 
turned  back  to  my  place,  I  saw  him  pass  his  sword 
through  the  mate's  body. 

It  was  none  too  soon  for  me  to  look  to  my  own  part ; 
for  my  head  was  scarce  back  at  the  window  before  five 
men,  carrying  a  spare  yard  for  a  battering-ram,  ran  past 
me  and  took  post  to  drive  the  door  in.  I  had  never  fired 
with  a  pistol  in  my  life,  and  not  often  with  a  gun  ;  far 
less  against  a  fellow-creature.  But  it  was  now  or  never  ; 
and  just  as  they  swang  the  yard,  I  cried  out,  "Take 
that ! "  and  shot  into  their  midst. 

I  must  have  hit  one  of  them,  for  he  sang  out  and 
gave  back  a  step,  and  the  rest  stopped  as  if  a  little  dis- 
concerted. Before  they  had  time  to  recover,  I  sent 
another  ball  over  their  heads  ;  and  at  my  third  shot 
(which  went  as  wide  as  the  second)  the  whole  party 
threw  down  the  yard  and  ran  for  it. 

Then  I  looked  round  again  into  the  deck-house.  The 
whole  place  was  full  of  the  smoke  of  ray  own  firing,  just 
as  my  ears  seemed  to  be  burst  with  the  noise  of  the 
shots.  But  there  was  Alan,  standing  as  before :  only 
now  his  sword  was  running  blood  to  the  hilt,  and  him- 
self 80  swelled  with  triumph  and  fallen  into  so  fine  an 


KIDNAPPED.  93 

attitude,  that  he  looked  to  be  invincible.  Right  before 
hira  on  the  floor  was  Mr.  Shuan,  on  his  hands  and 
knees  ;  the  blood  was  pouring  from  his  mouth,  and  he 
was  sinking  slowly  lower,  with  a  terrible,  white  face  ; 
and  just  as  I  looked,  some  of  those  from  behind  caught 
hold  of  him  by  the  heels  and  dragged  him  bodily  out  of 
the  round-house.  I  believe  he  died  as  they  were  doing 
it. 

^'There's  one  of  your  Whigs  for  ye!"  cried  Alan; 
and  then  turning  to  me,  he  asked  if  I  had  done  much 
execution. 

I  told  him  I  had  winged  one,  and  thought  it  was  the 
captain. 

"And  I've  settled  two,"  says  he.  "  No,  there's  not 
enough  blood  let  ;  they'll  be  back  again.  To  your 
watch,  David.     This  was  but  a  dram  before  meat." 

I  settled  back  to  my  place,  recharging  the  three  pistols 
I  had  fired,  and  keeping  watch  with  both  eye  and  ear. 

Our  enemies  were  disputing  not  far  off  upon  the 
deck,  and  that  so  loudly  that  I  could  hear  a  word  or 
two  above  the  washing  of  the  seas. 

"  It  was  Shuan  bauchled  *  it,"  I  heard  one  say. 

And  another  answered  him  with  a  "Wheesht,  man! 
He's  paid  the  piper." 

After  that  the  voices  fell  again  into  the  same  mut- 
tering as  before.  Only  now,  one  person  spoke  most  of 
the  time,  as  tliough  laying  down  a  plan,  and  first  one 

*  Bungled. 


94  KIDNAPPED. 

and  then  another  answered  him  briefly,  like  men  taking 
orders.  By  this,  I  made  sure  tliey  were  coming  on 
again,  and  told  Alan. 

''It's  what  we  have  to  pray  for,"  said  he.  ''Unless 
we  can  give  them  a  good  distaste  of  us,  and  done  with 
it,  there'll  be  nae  sleep  for  either  you  or  me.  But  this 
time,  mind,  they'll  be  in  earnest." 

By  this,  my  pistols  were  ready,  and  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  listen  and  wait.  While  the  brush 
lasted,  I  had  not  the  time  to  think  if  I  was  frighted  ; 
but  now,  when  all  was  still  again,  my  mind  ran  upon 
nothing  else.  The  thought  of  the  sharp  swords  and  the 
cold  steel  was  strong  m  me  ;  and  presently,  Avlien  I 
began  to  hear  stealtliy  steps  and  a  brushing  of  men's 
clothes  against  the  round-house  wall,  and  knew  they 
were  taking  their  places  in  the  dark,  I  could  have  found 
it  in  my  mind  to  cry  out  aloud. 

All  this  was  upon  Alan's  side  ;  and  I  had  begun  to 
think  my  share  of  the  fight  was  at  an  end,  when  I  heard 
some  one  drop  softly  on  the  roof  above  me. 

Then  there  came  a  single  call  on  the  sea-pipe,  and 
that  was  the  signal.  A  knot  of  them  made  one  rush  of 
it,  cutlass  in  hand,  against  the  door  ;  and  at  the  same 
moment,  the  glass  of  the  skylight  was  dashed  in  a 
thousand  pieces,  and  a  man  leaped  through  and  landed 
on  the  floor.  Before  he  got  his  feet,  I  had  clapped  a 
pistol  to  hi:  back,  and  might  have  shot  him,  too  ;  only 
at   the    touch  of  him  (and    him    alive)  my  whole  flesh 


KIDNAPPED.  95 

misgave  me,  and  I  could  no  more  pull  the  trigger  than 
I  could  have  flown. 

He  had  dropped  his  cutlass  as  he  jumped,  and  when 
he  felt  the  pistol,  whipped  straight  round  and  laid  hold 
of  me,  roaring  out  an  oath  ;  and  at  that  either  my 
courage  came  again,  or  I  grew  so  much  afraid  as  came  to 
the  same  thing  ;  for  I  gave  a  shriek  and  shot  him  in  the 
midst  of  the  body.  He  gave  the  most  horrible,  ugly 
groan  and  fell  to  the  floor.  The  foot  of  a  second  fellow, 
whose  legs  were  dangling  through  the  skylight,  struck 
me  at  the  same  time  upon  the  head  ;  and  at  that  I 
snatched  another  pistol  and  shot  this  one  through  the 
thigh,  so  that  he  slipped  through  and  tumbled  in  a 
lump  on  his  companion's  bod}'.  There  was  no  talk  of 
missing,  any  more  than  there  was  time  to  aim  ;  I 
clapped  the  muzzle  to  the  very  place  and  fired. 

I  might  have  stood  and  stared  at  them  for  long,  but 
I  heard  Alan  shout  as  if  for  help,  and  that  brought  me 
to  my  senses. 

He  had  kejjt  the  door  so  long ;  but  one  of  the  sea- 
men, while  he  was  engaged  with  otliers,  had  run  in 
under  his  guard  and  caught  him  about  the  bod3^  Alan 
was  dirking  him  with  his  left  hand,  but  the  fellow  clung 
like  a  leech.  Another  had  broken  in  and  had  his  cutlass 
raised.  The  door  was  thronged  with  their  faces.  I 
thought  we  were  lost,  and  catching  up  my  cutlass,  fell 
on  them  in  flank. 

But  I   had    not   time  to  be  of   lielp.     The  wrestler 


96  KIDNAPPED. 

dropped  at  last  ;  and  Alan,  leaping  back  to  get  his  dis- 
tance, ran  upon  the  others  like  a  bull,  roaring  as  he 
went.  They  broke  before  him  like  water,  turning,  and 
running,  and  falling  one  against  another  in  their  haste. 
The  sword  in  his  hands  flashed  like  quicksilver  into  the 
huddle  of  our  fleeing  enemies  ;  and  at  every  flash  there 
came  the  scream  of  a  man  hurt.  I  was  still  thinking 
we  were  lost,  when  lo  !  they  were  all  gone,  and  Alan 
was  driving  theju  along  the  deck  as  a  sheepdog  chases 
sheep. 

Yet  he  was  no  sooner  out  than  he  was  back  again, 
being  as  cautious  as  he  was  bi'ave ;  and  meanwhile  the 
seamen  continued  running  and  crying  out  as  if  he  was 
still  behind  them  ;  and  we  heard  thera  tumble  one  upon 
another  into  the  forecastle,  and  clap-to  the  hatch  upon 
the  top. 

The  round-house  was  like  a  shambles;  three  were 
dead  inside,  another  lay  in  his  death  agony  across  the 
threshold  ;  and  there  were  Alan  and  I  victorious  and 
unhurt. 

He  came  up  to  me  with  open  arms.  "Come  to  my 
arms ! "  he  cried,  and  embraced  and  kissed  me  hard 
upon  both  cheeks.  '* David,"  said  he,  "I  love  you  like 
a  brother.  And  0,  man,"  he  cried  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy, 
*^am  I  no  a  bonny  fighter  ?  '' 

Tliereupon  he  turned  to  the  four  enemies,  passed  his 
sword  clean  through  oaeli  of  tiiem,  and  tumbled  them 
out  of  doors  one  after  the  other.     As  he  did  so,  he  kept 


KIDNAPPED.  97 

humming  and  singing  and  whistling  to  himself,  like  a 
man  trying  to  recall  an  aii- ;  only  what  he  was  trying, 
was  to  make  one.  All  the  while,  the  flush  was  in  his 
face,  and  his  eyes  were  as  bright  as  a  five-year-old 
child's  with  a  new  toy.  And  presently  he  sat  down 
upon  the  table,  sword  in  hand  ;  the  air  that  he  was 
making  all  the  time  began*  to  run  a  little  clearer,  and 
then  clearer  still ;  and  then  out  he  burst  with  a  great 
voice  into  a  Gaelic  song. 

I  have  translated  it  here,  not  in  verse  (of  which  I 
have  no  skill)  but  at  least  in  the  king's  English.  He 
sang  it  often  afterwards,  and  the  thing  became  popular ; 
so  that  I  have  heard  it,  and  had  it  explained  to  me, 
many's  the  time. 

This  is  the  song  of  the  sword  of  Alan  : 

The  smith  made  it, 

The  fire  set  it ; 

Now  it  shines  in  the  hnnd  of  Alan  Breck. 

« 
Their  eyes  were  many  and  bright. 

Swift  were  they  to  behold. 

Many  the  hands  they  guided  : 

The  sword  was  alone. 

The  dun  deer  troop  over  the  hill, 
They  are  many,  the  hill  is  one  ; 
The  dun  deer  vanish, 
»  The  hill  remains. 

Come  to  me  from  the  hills  of  heather, 
Come  from  tlie  isles  of  the  sea. 
0  far-beholding  eagles, 
Here  is  your  meat. 


98  KIDNAPPED. 

Now  this  song  which  he  made  (both  words  and 
music)  in  the  hour  of  our  victory,  is  something  less  than 
just'to  me,  who  stood  beside  him  in  tlie  tussle.  Mr. 
Shuau  and  five  more  were  eitlicr  killed  outright  or 
thoroughly  disabled  ;  but  of  these,  two  fell  by  my  hand, 
the  two  that  came  by  the  skvlight.  Four  more  were 
hurt,  and  of  that  number,  one  (and  he  not  the  least 
important)  got  his  hurt  from  me.  So  that,  altogether, 
I  did  my  fair  share  both  of  the  killing  and  the  wound- 
ing, and  might  have  claimed  a  place  in  Alan's  verses. 
But  poets  (as  a  very  wise  man  once  told  me)  have  to 
think  upon  their  rhymes  ;  and  in  good  prose  talk,  Alan 
always  did  me  more  than  justice. 

In  the  meanwhile,  I  was  innocent  of  any  wrong  being 
done  me.  For  not  only  I  knew  no  word  of  the  Gaelic  ; 
but  what  with  the  long  suspense  of  the  waiting,  and 
the  scurry  and  strain  of  our  two  spirts  of  fighting,  and 
more  than  all,  the  horror  I  had  of  some  of  my  own 
share  in  it,  the  thing  was  no  sooner  over  than  I  was 
glad  to  stagger  to  a  seat.  There  was  that  tightness  on 
my  chest  that  I  could  hardly  l)reathe  ;  the  thought  of 
the  I  wo  men  I  had  shot  sat  upon  me  like  a  nigiitmare ; 
and  nil  u|)()n  a  sudden,  and  before  T  had  a  guess  of 
what  was  coming,  I  began  to  sob  and  cry  like  any 
child. 

Alan  clapped  my  shoulder,  and  said  I  was  a  brave  lad 
and  wanted  nothing  but  a  slee]). 

"  I'll  take  the  first  watch,"  said  he.     "  Ye've  done 


KIDNAPPED.  99 

well  by  me,  David,  first  and  last  ;  and  I  wouldn't  lose 
you  for  all  Appin — no,  nor  for  Breadalbane." 

So  he  made  up  my  bed  on  the  floor,  and  took  the 
first  spell,  pistol  in  hand  and  sword  on  knee ;  three 
hours  by  the  captain's  watch  upon  the  wall.  Then  he 
roused  me  up,  and  I  took  my  turn  of  three  hours  ; 
before  the  end  of  which  it  was  broad  day,  and  a  very 
quiet  morning,  with  a  smooth,  rolling  sea  that  tossed 
the  ship  and  made  the  blood  run  to  and  fro  on  the 
round-house  floor,  and  a  heavy  rain  that  drummed  upon 
the  roof.  All  my  watch  there  was  nothing  stirring  ; 
and  by  the  banging  of  the  helm,  I  knew  they  had  even 
no  one  at  the  tiller.  Indeed  (as  I  learned  afterwards) 
they  were  so  many  of  them  hurt  or  dead,  and  the  rest  in 
so  ill  a  temper,  that  Mr.  Riach  and  the  captain  had  to 
take  turn  and  turn  (like  Alan  and  me),  or  the  brig 
might  have  gone  ashore  and  nobody  the  wiser.  It  was 
a  mercy  the  night  had  fallen  so  still,  for  the  wind  had 
gone  down  as  soon  as  the  rain  began.  Even  as  it  was, 
I  jndged  by  the  wailing  of  a  great  number  of  gulls  that 
went  crying  and  fishing  round  the  ship,  that  she  must 
have  drifted  pretty  near  the  coast  or  one  of  the  islands 
of  the  Hebrides  ;  and  at  last,  looking  out  of  the  door  of 
the  roimd-house,  I  saw  the  great  stone  hills  of  Skye  on 
the  riglit  hand,  and,  a  little  more  astern,  the  strange 
isle  of  Rum. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE   CAPTAIN   KNUCKLKS    UNDKR. 

Alan  and  I  sat  down  to  breakfast  about  six  of  the 
clock.  The  floor  was  covered  with  broken  glass  and  in 
a  horrid  mess  of  blood,  which  took  away  my  hunger. 
In  all  other  ways  we  were  in  a  situation  not  only  agree- 
able but  merry  ;  having  ousted  the  officers  from  their 
own  cabin,  and  having  at  command  all  the  drink  in  the 
ship — both  wine  and  spirits — and  all  the  dainty  part  of 
what  was  eatable,  such  as  the  pickles  and  the  fine  sort 
of  biscuit.  This,  of  itself,  was  enough  to  set  us  in  good 
humour ;  but  the  richest  part  of  it  was  this,  that  the 
two  thirstiest  men  that  ever  came  out  of  Scotland  (Mr, 
Shuan  being  dead)  were  now  shut  in  the  1'ore-purt  of 
the  shi})  and  condemned  to  what  they  hated  most — cold 
water. 

''And  depend  upon  it,"  Alan  said,  ''we  shall  hear 
more  of  them  ere  long.  Ye  may  keep  a  man  from  the 
fighting  but  never  from  his  bottle." 

We  made  good  comjmny  for  each  other.  Alan,  in- 
deed, expressed  himself  most  lovingly  ;  and  taking  a 
knife  from  the  table,  cut  me  off  one  of  the  silver  buttons 
from  his  coat. 


KIDNAPPED.  101 

"I  had  them,"  says  he,  "from  my  father,  Duncan 
Stewart ;  and  now  give  ye  one  of  them  to  be  a  keep- 
sake for  last  night's  work.  And  wherever  ye  go  and 
show  that  button,  the  friends  of  Alan  Breck  will  come 
around  you." 

He  said  this  as  if  he  had  been  Charlemagne  and 
commanded  armies ;  and  indeed,  much  as  I  admired 
his  courage,  I  was  always  in  danger  of  smiling  at  his 
vanity  :  in  danger,  I  say,  for  had  I  not  kept  my  counte- 
nance, I  would  be  afraid  to  think  what  a  quarrel  might 
have  followed. 

As  soon  as  we  were  through  with  our  meal,  he 
rummaged  in  the  captain's  locker  till  he  found  a  clothes- 
brush  ;  and  then  taking  off  his  coat,  began  to  visit  his 
suit  and  brush  away  the  stains,  with  such  care  and 
labour  as  I  supposed  to  have  been  only  usual  with 
women.  To  be  sure,  he  had  no  other  ;  and  besides 
(as  he  said)  it  belonged  to  a  King  and  so  behoved  to  be 
royally  looked  after. 

For  all  that,  when  I  saw  what  care  he  took  to  pluck 
out  the  threads  where  the  button  had  been  cut  away,  I 
put  a  higher  value  on  his  gift. 

He  was  still  so  engaged,  when  we  were  hailed  by 
Mr,  Riach  from  the  deck,  asking  for  a  parley ;  and  I, 
climbing  through  the  skylight  and  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  it,  pistol  in  hand  and  with  a  bold  front,  though 
inwardly  in  fear  of  broken  glass,  hailed  him  back  again 
and  bade  him  speak  out.     He  came  to  the  edge  of  the 


102  KIDNAPPED. 

round-house,  and  stood  on  a  coil  of  rope,  so  that  his 
chin  was  on  a  level  with  the  roof ;  and  we  looked  at 
each  other  awhile  in  silence.  Mr.  Riach,  as  I  do  not 
think  he  had  been  very  forward  in  the  battle,  so  he  hud 
got  off  with  nothing  worse  than  a  blow  upon  the  cheek  : 
but  he  looked  out  of  heart  and  very  weary,  having  been 
all  night  afoot,  either  standing  watch  or  doctoring  the 
wounded. 

"  This  is  a  bad  job,"  said  he  at  last,  shaking  his 
head. 

"  It  was  none  of  our  choosing,"  said  I. 

"The  captain,"  says  he,  "would  like  to  speak  with 
your  friend.     They  might  speak  at  the  window." 

"  And  how  do  we  know  what  treachery  he  means  ?  " 
cried  I. 

"  He  means  none,  David,"  returned  Mr.  Riach  ;  "  and 
if  he  did,  I'll  tell  ye  the  honest  truth,  we  couldnae  get 
the  men  to  follow." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  I. 

"I'll  tell  ye  more  than  that,"  said  he.  "It's  not 
only  the  men  ;  it's  me.  I'm  frich'ened,  Davie."  And 
he  smiled  across  at  me.  "No,"  he  continued,  "what 
we  want  is  to  be  shut  of  him." 

Thereupon  I  consulted  with  Alan,  and  the  parley  was 
agreed  to  and  parole  given  upon  either  side  ;  but  this 
was  not  the  whole  of  Mr.  Riach's  business,  and  he  now 
begged  me  for  a  dram  with  such  instancy  and  such 
reminders  of  his  former  kindness,  that  at  last  I  handed 


KIDNAPPED.  103 

him  a  pannikin  with  about  a  gill  of  brandy.  He  drank 
a  part,  and  then  carried  the  rest  down  upon  tlie  deck, 
to  share  it  (I  suppose)  with  his  superior. 

A  little  after,  the  captain  came  (as  was  agreed)  to 
one  of  the  windows,  and  stood  there  in  the  rain,  with 
his  arm  in  a  sling,  and  looking  stern  and  pale,  and  so 
old  that  my  heart  smote  me  for  having  fired  upon  him. 

Alan  at  once  held  a  pistol  in  his  face. 

"Put  that  thing  up!"  said  the  captain.  "Have  I 
not  passed  my  word,  sir  ?  or  do  you  seek  to  affront  me  ?  " 

"Captain,"  said  Alan,  "I  doubt  your  word  is  a 
breakable.  Last  night  ye  haggled  and  argle-bargled 
like  an  apple-wife  ;  and  then  passed  me  your  word, 
and  gave  me  your  hand  to  back  it ;  and  ye  ken  very 
well  what  was  the  upshot.  Be  damned  to  your  Avord  ! " 
says  he. 

"Well,  well,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  "ye'll  get  little 
good  by  swearing."  (And  truly  that  was  a  fault  of 
which  the  captain  was  quite  free.)  "  But  we  have  other 
things  to  speak,"  he  continued,  bitterly.  "  Ye've  made 
a  sore  hash  of  my  brig  :  I  haven't  hands  enough  left  to 
work  her  ;  and  my  first  officer  (whom  I  could  ill  spare) 
has  got  your  sword  throughout  his  vitals,  and  passed 
without  speech.  There  is  nothing  left  me,  sir,  but  to 
put  back  into  the  port  of  Glasgow  after  hands ;  and 
there  (by  your  leave)  ye  will  find  them  that  are  better 
able  to  talk  to  you." 

"Ay  ?"  said  Alan  ;  "and  faith,  I'll  have  a  talk  with 


104  KIDNAPPED. 

thcin  mysel'  !  Unless  there's  luiebodj  speaks  English 
in  tiiat  town,  I  luivc  a  bonny  tale  for  them.  Fifteen 
tarry  sailors  upon  the  one  side,  and  a  man  and  a  iialf- 
ling  boy  upon  the  other  !     0,  man,  it's  peetiful  !  " 

Hoseason  flushed  red. 

''No,"  continued  Alan,  ''that'll  no  do.  Ye'll  just 
have  to  set  me  ashore  as  we  agreed." 

"Ay,"  said  Hoseason,  "but  my  first  officer  is  dead 
— ye  ken  best  how.  There's  none  of  the  rest  of  us 
acquaint  with  this  coast,  sir ;  and  it's  one  very  dan- 
gerous to  ships." 

"I  give  ye  your  choice,"  says  Alan.  "Set  me  on 
dry  ground  in  Appin,  or  Ardgour,  or  in  Morven,  or 
Arisaig,  or  Morar  ;  or,  in  brief  where  ye  please,  within 
thirty  miles  of  my  own  country  ;  except  in  a  country 
of  the  Campbells'.  That's  a  broad  target.  If  ye 
miss  that,  ye  must  be  as  feckless  at  the  sailoring 
as  I  have  found  ye  at  the  fighting.  Why,  my  poor 
country  people  in  their  lit  cobles  *  pass  from  island  to 
island  in  all  weathers,  ay,  and  l)y  night  too,  for  the 
matter  of  that." 

"  A  coble's  not  a  ship,  sir,"  said  the  captain.  "  It 
has  nae  draught  of  water." 

"  Well,  then,  to  Glasgow  if  ye  list ! "  says  Alan. 
"  We'll  have  the  laugh  of  ye  at  the  least." 

"My  mind  runs  little  upon  laughing^"  said  the 
captain.      ''  But  all  this  will  cost  money,  sir.  ' 


*  Coble  :  a  small  boat  used  in  fishing. 


KIDNAPPED.  105 

"  Well,  sir,"  says  Alan,  "I  am  nae  weathercock. 
Thirty  guineas,  if  ye  land  me  on  the  sea-side  ;  and  sixty, 
if  ye  put  me  in  the  Linnhe  Loch." 

"  But  see,  sir,  where  we  lie,  we  are  but  a  fevv^  hours' 
sail  from  Ardnamurchan,"  said  Hoseason.  "Give  me 
sixty,  and  I'll  set  ye  there." 

''And  I'm  to  wear  my  brogues  and  run  jeopardy  of 
the  red-coats  to  please  you  ?  "  cries  Alan.  "  No,  sir,  if 
ye  want  sixty  guineas,  earn  them,  and  set  me  in  my 
own  country." 

"It's  to  risk  the  brig,  sir,"  said  the  captain,  "and 
your  own  lives  along  with  her." 

"  Take  it  or  want  it,"  says  Alan. 

"  Could  ye  pilot  us  at  all  ?"  asked  the  captain,  who 
was  frowning  to  himself. 

"  Well,  it's  doubtful,"  said  Alan.  "  I'm  more  of  a 
fighting  man  (as  ye  have  seen  for  yoursel')  than  a  sailor- 
man.  But  I  have  been  often  enough  picked  up  and  set 
down  upon  this  coast,  and  should  ken  something  of  the 
lie  of  it." 

The  captain  shook  his  head,  still  frowning. 

"  If  I  had  lost  less  money  on  this  unchancy  cruise," 
says  he,  "  I  would  see  you  in  a  rope's-end  before  I 
risked  my  brig,  sir,  But  be  it  as  ye  will.  As  soon  as 
I  get  a  slant  of  wind  (and  there's  some  coming,  or  I'm 
the  more  mistaken)  I'll  put  it  in  hand.  But  there's  one 
thing  more.  We  may  meet  in  with  a  king's  ship  and 
she  may  lay  us  aboard,  sir,  with  no  blame  of  mine  :  they 


106  KIDNAPPED. 

keep  the  cruisers  thick  upon  this  coast,  ye  ken  who  for. 
Now,  sir,  if  that  was  to  befall,  ye  might  leave  the 
money." 

"Captain,"  says  Alan,  "  if  ye  see  a  pennant,  it  shall 
be  your  part  to  run  away.  And  now,  as  I  hear  you're 
a  little  short  of  brandy  in  the  forepart.  Til  offer  ye  a 
change :  a  bottle  of  brandy  against  two  buckets  of 
water." 

That  was  the  last  clause  of  the  treaty,  and  was  duly 
executed  on  both  sides  ;  so  that  Alan  and  I  could  at 
last  wash  out  the  round-house  and  be  quit  of  the  memo- 
rials of  those  whom  we  had  slain,  and  the  captain  and 
Mr.  Riach  could  be  happy  again  in  their  own  way,  the 
name  of  which  was  drink. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

I   HEAR   OF   THE    '"RED    FOX." 

Before  we  had  done  cleaning  out  the  round-house, 
a  breeze  sprang  up  from  a  little  to  the  east  of  north. 
This  blew  off  the  rain  and  brought  out  the  sun. 

And  here  I  must  explain ;  and  the  reader  would  do 
well  to  look  at  a  map.  On  the  day  when  the  fog  fell 
and  we  ran  down  Alan's  boat,  we  had  been  running 
through  the  Little  Minch.  At  dawn  after  the  battle, 
we  lay  becalmed  to  the  east  of  the  Isle  of  Canna  or 
between  that  and  Isle  Eriska  in  the  chain  of  the  Long 
Islands.  Now  to  get  from  there  to  the  Linnhe  Loch, 
the  straight  course  was  through  the  narrows  of  the 
Sound  of  Mull.  But  the  captain  had  no  chart ;  he  was 
afraid  to  trust  his  brig  so  deep  among  the  islands;  and 
the  wind  serving  well,  he  preferred  to  go  by-west  of 
Tiree  and  come  up  under  the  southern  coast  of  the  great 
Isle  of  Mull. 

All  day  the  breeze  held  in  the  same  point,  and  rather 
freshened  than  died  down  ;  and  towards  afternoon,  a 
swell  began  to  set  in  from  round  the  outer  Hebrides. 
Our  course,  to  go  round  about  the  inner  isles,  was  to  the 
west  of  south,  so  that  at  first  we  had  this  swell  upon 
our  beam,    and   were   much   rolled  about.     But  after 


108  KIDNAPPED. 

nightfall,  when  we  had  turned  the  end  of  Tiree  and 
began  to  head  more  to  the  east,  the  sea  came  right 
astern. 

Meanwhile,  the  early  part  of  the  day,  before  tiie 
pwcll  came  up,  was  very  pleasant,  sailing,  as  we  were, 
in  a  bright  sunshine  and  with  many  mountainous  islands 
upon  (lilTerent  sides.  Alan  and  I  sat  in  the  round-house 
with  the  doors  open  on  each  side  (the  wind  being 
straight  astern)  and  smoked  a  pipe  or  two  of  the  cap- 
tain's fine  tobacco.  It  was  at  this  time  we  heard  each 
other's  stories,  which  was  the  more  important  to  me,  as  I 
gained  some  knowledge  of  that  wild  Highland  country, 
on  which  I  was  so  soon  to  land.  In  those  days,  so  close 
on  the  back  of  the  great  rebellion,  it  was  needful  a  man 
should  know  what  he  was  doing  when  he  went  upon 
the  heather. 

It  was  I  that  showed  the  example,  telling  him  all 
my  misfortune  ;  which  he  heard  with  great  good  nature. 
Only,  when  I  came  to  mention  that  good  friend  of 
mine,  Mr.  Campbell  the  minister,  Alan  fired  up  and 
cried  out  that  he  hated  all  that  were  of  that  name. 

"Why,"  said  I,  "he  is  a  man  you  should  be  proud  to 
give  your  hand  to," 

"I  know  nothing  I  would  help  a  Campbell  to,"  says 
he,  "  unless  it  was  a  leaden  bullet.  I  would  hunt  all  of 
that  name  like  blackcocks.  If  I  lay  dying,  I  would 
crawl  upon  my  knees  to  my  chamber  window  for  a  shot 
at  one." 


KIDNAPPED.  109 

*'Why,  Alan,"  I  cried,  ''what  ails  ye  at  the  Camp- 
bells ?  " 

"Well,"  says  he,  "ye  ken  very  well  that  I  am  an 
Appin  Stewart,  and  the  Campbells  have  long  harried 
and  wasted  those  of  my  name ;  ay,  and  got  lands  of  ns 
by  treachery — but  never  with  the  sword,"  he  cried 
loudly,  and  with  the  word  brought  down  his  fist  upon 
the  table.  But  I  paid  the  less  attention  to  this,  for  I 
knew  it  was  usually  said  by  those  who  have  the  under 
hand.  "  There's  more  than  that,"  he  continued,  "  and 
all  in  the  same  story  :  lying  words,  lying  papers,  tricks 
fit  for  a  peddler,  and  the  show  of  what's  legal  over  all, 
to  make  a  man  the  more  angry." 

"  You  that  are  so  wasteful  of  your  buttons,''  said  I, 
"  I  can  hardly  think  you  would  be  a  good  judge  of 
business." 

"  Ah  !  "  says  he,  falling  again  to  smiling,  '"  I  got  my 
wastefulness  from  the  same  man  I  got  the  buttons  from; 
and  that  was  my  poor  father,  Duncan  Stewart,  grace  be 
to  him  !  He  was  the  prettiest  man  of  his  kindred; 
and  the  best  swordsman  in  the  Hielands,  David,  and 
that  is  the  same  as  to  say,  in  all  the  world,  I  should  ken, 
for  it  was  him  that  taught  me.  He  was  in  the  Bhick 
Watch,  when  first  it  was  mustered ;  and  like  other 
gentleman  privates,  had  a  gillie  at  his  back  to  carry  his 
firelock  for  him  on  the  march.  Well,  the  King,  it  ap- 
pears, was  wishful  to  see  Hieland  swordsmanship  ;  and 
my  father  and  three  more  were  chosen  out  and  sent  to 


110  KIDNAPPED. 

London  town,  to  let  him  see  it  at  the  best.  So  they  were 
had  into  the  palace  and  showed  the  whole  art  of  the 
sword  for  two  hours  at  a  stretch,  before  King  George 
and  Queen  Carline,  and  the  Batcher  Cumberland,  and 
many  more  of  whom  I  havenae  mind.  And  when  they 
were  througli,  the  King  (for  all  he  was  a  rank  usurper) 
spoke  them  fair  and  gave  each  man  three  guineas  in  his 
hand.  Now,  as  they  were  going  out  of  the  palace,  they 
had  a  porter's  lodge  to  go  by  ;  and  it  came  in  on  my 
fatiier,  as  he  was  perhaps  the  first  private  Hieland  gen- 
tleman that  had  ever  gone  by  that  door,  it  was  right  he 
should  give  the  poor  porter  a  proper  notion  of  their 
(quality.  So  he  gives  the  King's  three  guineas  into  the 
man's  hand,  as  if  it  was  his  common  custom  ;  the  three 
others  that  came  behind  him  did  the  same  ;  and  there 
they  were  on  the  street,  never  a  penny  the  better  for  their 
pains.  Some  say  it  was  one,  that  was  the  first  to  fee 
the  King's  porter  ;  and  vsome  say  it  was  another  ;  but 
the  tiiith  of  it  is,  that  it  was  Duncan  Stewart,  as  1  am 
willing  to  prove  with  either  sword  or  pistol.  And  that 
was  the  father  that  I  had,  God  rest  him."  < 

''I  think  he  was  not  the  man  to  leave  you  rich," 
said  I. 

''And  that's  true,"  said  Alan.  "He  left  me  my 
breeks  to  cover  me,  and  little  besides.  And  that  was 
hov/  I  came  to  enlist,  which  was  a  black  spot  upon  my 
character  at  the  best  of  times,  and  would  still  be  a  sore 
job  for  me  if  f  Icll  among  the  red-coats." 


KIDNAPPED.  Ill 

''What?"  cried  I,  "were  you  in  the  English 
army  ?  " 

"  That  was  I,"  said  Alan.  "  But  I  deserted  to  the 
liarht  side  at  Preston  Pans — and  that's  some  comfort." 

I  could  scarcely  share  this  view  :  holding  desertion 
under  arms  for  an  unpardonable  fault  in  honour.  But 
for  all  I  was  so  young,  I  was  wiser  than  say  my  thought. 
"  Dear,  dear,"  says  I,  "the  punishment  is  death." 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "if  they  got  hands  on  me,  it  would 
be  a  short  shrift  and  a  lang  tow  for  Alan  !  But  1  have 
the  King  of  France's  commission  in  my  pocket,  which 
would  aye  be  some  protection." 

"I  misdoubt  it  much,"  said  I. 

"  1  have  doubts  mysel',"  said  Alan,  drily. 

"  And,  good  heaven,  man,"  cried  I,  "  you  that  are  a 
condemned  rebel,  and  a  deserter,  and  a  man  of  the 
French  King's— what  tempts  ye  back  into  this  country  ? 
It's  a  braving  of  Providence." 

"Tut,"  says  Alan,  "I  have  been  back  every  year 
since  forty-six  !  " 

"  And  what  brings  ye,  man  ?  "  cried  I. 

"  Well,  ye  see,  I  weary  for  my  friends  and  country," 
said  he.  "France  is  a  braw  place,  nae  doubt;  but  I 
weary  for  the  heather  and  the  deer.  And  then  I  have 
bit  things  that  I  attend  to.  Whiles  I  pick  up  a  few 
lads  to  serve  the  King  of  France  :  recruits,  ye  see  ;  and 
that's  aye  a  little  money.  But  the  heart  of  the  matter 
is  the  business  of  my  chief,  Ardshiel." 


112  KIDNAPPED. 

"I  thought  they  called  your  chief  Appin,"  said  I. 

"  Ay,  but  Ardshiel  is  the  captain  of  the  clan,"  said 
he,  which  scarcely  cleared  my  mind.  "  Ye  see,  David, 
he  that  was  all  his  life  so  great  a  man,  and  come  of  the 
blood  and  bearing  the  name  of  kings,  is  now  brought 
down  to  live  in  a  French  town  like  a  poor  and  private 
person.  He  that  had  four  hundred  swords  at  his 
whistle  I  have  seen,  with  these  eyes  of  mine,  buying 
butter  in  the  market-place,  and  taking  it  home  in  a 
kale-leaf.  This  is  not  only  a  pain  but  a  disgrace  to  us 
of  his  family  and  clan.  There  are  the  bairns  forby,  the 
children  and  the  hope  of  Appin,  that  must  be  learned 
their  letters  and  how  to  hold  a  sword,  in  that  far 
country.  Now,  the  tenants  of  Appin  have  to  pay  a 
rent  to  King  George  ;  but  their  hearts  are  staunch,  they 
are  true  to  their  chief  ;  and  what  with  love  and  a  bit 
of  pressure,  and  maybe  a  threat  or  two,  the  poor  folk 
scrape  up  a  second  rent  for  Ardshiel.  Well,  David,  I'm 
the  hand  that  carries  it."'  And  he  struck  the  belt  about 
his  body,  so  that  the  guineas  rang. 

*'  Do  they  pay  both  ?  "  cried  I. 

"Ay,  David,  both,"  says  he. 

"  What  ?  two  rents  ?  "  I  repeated. 

**Ay,  David,"  said  he.  "I  told  a  different  tale  to 
yon  captain  man  ;  bvit  this  is  the  truth  of  it.  And  its 
wonderful  to  me  how  little  pressure  is  needed.  But 
that's  the  handiwork  of  juy  good  kinsman  and  my 
father's    friend,  James  of  the  Glens ;    James  Stewart, 


KIDNAPPED.  113 

that  is  :  Ardshiel's  half-brother.     He  it  is  that  gets  the 
money  in,  and  does  the  management." 

Tills  was  the  first  time  I  heard  the  name  of  that 
James  Stewart,  who  was  afterwards  so  famous  at  the 
time  of  his  hanging.  But  I  took  little  heed  at  the 
moment,  for  all  my  mind  was  occupied  with  the  gener- 
osity of  these  poor  Highlanders. 

"I  call  it  noble,"  I  cried.  "I'm  a  Whig,  or  little 
better  ;  hut  I  call  it  noble. " 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "  ye're  a  Whig,  but  ye're  a  gentle- 
man ;  and  that's  what  does  it.  Now,  if  ye  were  one  of 
the  cursed  race  of  Campbell,  ye  would  gnash  your  teeth 
to  hear  tell  of  it.  If  ye  were  the  Red  Fox."  .  .  .  And 
at  that  name  his  teeth  shut  together,  and  he  ceased 
speaking.  I  have  seen  many  a  grim  face,  but  never  a 
grimmer  than  Alan's  when  he  had  named  the  Red  Fox. 

"  And  who  is  the  Red  Fox  ?  "  I  asked,  daunted,  but 
still  curious. 
.  "  Who  is  he  ?  "  cried  Alan.  "Well,  and  I'll  tell  you 
that.  When  the  men  of  the  clans  were  broken  at  Cul- 
loden,  and  the  good  cause  went  down,  and  the  horses 
rode  over  the  fetlocks  in  the  best  blood  of  the  north, 
Ardsliiel  had  to  flee  like  a  poor  deer  upon  the  moun- 
tains— he  and  his  lady  and  his  bairns.  A  sair  job  we 
had  of  it  before  we  got  him  shipped  ;  and  while  he  still 
lay  in  the  heather,  the  English  rogues,  that  couldnae 
come  at  his  life,  were  striking  at  his  rights.  They 
strip]>ed  him  of  his  powers  ;  they  stripped  him  of  his 


114  KIDNAPPED. 

lands  ;  tliey  plucked  the  weapons  from  the  hands  of  his 
clansmen,  that  had  borne  arms  for  thirty  centuries  ;  ay, 
and  the  very  clotlies  off  their  backs — so  that  it's  now  a 
sin  to  wear  a  tartan  plaid,  and  a  man  may  be  cast  into  a 
jail  if  he  has  but  a  kilt  about  his  legs.  One  thing  they 
couldnae  kill.  That  was  the  love  the  clansmen  bore 
their  chief.  These  guineas  are  the  proof  of  it.  And 
now,  in  there  steps  a  man,  a  Campbell,  red-headed  Co- 
lin of  Glenure " 

"Is  that  him  you  call  the  Red  Fox  ?"  said  I. 

"Will  ye  bring  me  his  brush  ?"  cries  Alan,  fiercely. 
"Ah,  that's  the  man.  In  he  steps,  and  gets  papers  from 
King  George,  to  be  so-called  King's  factor  on  the  lands 
of  Ap])in.  And  at  first  he  sings  small,  and  is  hail-fel- 
low-well-met with  Sheamus — that's  James  of  the  Glens, 
my  chieftain's  agent.  But  by  and  by,  that  came  to  his 
ears  that  I  have  just  told  you  ;  how  the  poor  commons 
of  Appin,  the  farmers  and  the  crofters  and  the  boumeu, 
were  wringing  their  very  plaids  to  get  a  second  rent, 
and  send  it  overseas  for  Ardshiel  and  his  poor  bairns. 
What  was  it  ye  called  it,  when  I  told  ye  ?" 

"I  called  it  noble,  Alan,"  said  I. 

"And  you  little  better  than  a  common  "Whig  !  "  cries 
Alan,  "But  when  it  came  to  Colin  Roy,  the  black 
Campbell  blood  in  him  ran  wild.  He  sat  gnashing  his 
teeth  at  the  wine  table.  What !  should  a  Stewart  get  a 
bite  of  bread,  and  him  not  l)o  able  to  prevent  it  ?  Ah  ! 
Red  Fox,  if  ever  I  IujM  you  at  a  gun's  end,  the  Lord 


KIDNAPPED,  115 

have  pity  upon  ye  ! "  (Alan  stopped  to  swallow  down 
his  anger.)  "Well,  David,  what  does  he  do?  He 
declares  all  the  farms  to  let.  And  thinks  he,  in  hia 
black  heart,  I'll  soon  get  other  tenants  that'll  overbid 
these  Stewarts,  and  Maccolls,  and  Macrobs  (for  these  are 
all  names  in  my  clan,  David),  'and  then,'  thinks  he, 
'Ardshiel  will  have  to  hold  his  bonnet  on  a  French 
roadside.'" 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  what  followed  ?  " 

Alan  laid  down  his  pipe,  which  he  had  long  since  suf- 
fered to  go  out,  and  set  his  two  hands  upon  his  knees. 

"Ay,"  said  ye,  "ye'll  never  guess  that!  For  these 
same  Stewarts,  and  Maccolls,  and  Macrobs  (that  had 
two  rents  to  pay,  one  to  King  George  by  stark  force, 
and  one  to  Ardshiel  by  natural  kindness),  otfered  him  a 
better  price  than  any  Campbell  in  all  broad  Scotland  ; 
and  far  he  sent  seeking  them — as  far  as  to  the  sides  of 
Clyde  and  the  cross  of  Edinburgh — seeking,  and  Seech- 
ing, and  begging  them  to  come,  where  there  was  a 
Stewart  to  be  starved  and  a  red-headed  hound  of  a 
Campbell  to  be  pleasured  ! " 

"Well,  Alan,"  said  I,  "that  is  a  strange  story,  and 
a  fine  one  too.  And  Whig  as  I  may  be,  I  am  glad  the 
man  was  beaten." 

"  Him  beaten  ?  "  echoed  Alan.  "  It's  little  ye  ken 
of  Campbells  and  less  of  the  Red  Fox.  Him  beaten? 
No  :  nor  will  be,  till  his  blood's  on  the  hillside  !  But 
if  the  day  comes,  David  man,  that  I  can  find  time  and 


116  KIDNAPPED. 

leisure  for  a  bit  of  hunting,  there  grows  not  enough 
heather  in  all  Scothind  to  hide  him  from  my  vengeance!  " 

''Man  Alan,"  said  I,  ''ye  are  neither  very  wise  nor 
very  Christian  to  blow  off  so  many  words  of  anger. 
They  will  do  the  man  ye  call  the  Fox  no  harm,  and 
yourself  no  good.  Tell  me  your  tale  plainly  out.  Wliat 
did  he  next  ?" 

"  And  that's  a  good  observe,  David,"  said  Ahm. 
"Troth  and  indeed,  they  will  do  him  no  harm;  the 
more's  the  pity  !  And  barring  that  about  Christianity 
(of  whicli  my  opinion  is  quite  otherwise,  or  I  would  be 
nae  Christian)  I  am  much  of  your  mind." 

"Opinion  here  or  opinion  there,"  said  I,  "it's  a 
kent  thing  that  Christianity  forbids  revenge." 

"Ah,"  said  he,  "It's  well  seen  it  was  a  Campbell 
tauglit  ye  !  It  would  be  a  convenient  world  for  them 
and  their  sort,  if  there  was  no  such  a  thing  as  a  lad  and 
a  gun  beliind  a  heather  bush  !  But  that's  nothing  to 
the  point.     That  is  what  he  did." 

"  Ay,"  said  I,  "  come  to  that." 

"  Well,  David,"  said  he,  "  since  he  couldnae  bo  rid 
of  the  royal  commons  by  fair  means,  he  swore  he  would 
be  rid  of  them  by  foul.  Ardshiel  was  to  starve  :  that 
was  the  thing  he  aimed  at.  And  since  them  that  fed 
him  in  his  exile  wouldnae  be  bought  out  right  or  wrong, 
he  would  drive  them  out.  Therefore  he  sent  for  lawyers, 
and  papers,  and  red-coats  to  stand  at  his  back.  And  the 
kindly  folk  of  that  country  must  all  pack  and  tramp, 


KIDNAPPED.  117 

every  father's  son  out  of  his  father's  house,  and  out  of 
the  place  where  he  was  bred  and  fed,  and  played  when 
he  was  a  callant.  And  who  are  to  succeed  them  ?  Bare- 
leggit  beggars  !  King  George  is  to  whistle  for  his  rents; 
he  maun  dow  with  less ;  he  can  spread  his  butter 
thinner:  what  cares  Eed  Colin  ?  If  he  can  hurt  Ard- 
shiel,  he  has  his  wish ;  if  he  can  pluck  the  meat  from 
my  chieftain's  table,  and  the  bit  toys  out  of  his  chil- 
dren's hands,  he  will  gang  hame  singing  to  Glenure  !  " 

"Let  me  have  a  word,"  said  I.  '*  Be  sure,  if  they 
take  less  rents,  be  sure  Government  has  a  finger  in 
the  pie.  It's  not  this  Campbell's  fault,  man — it's  his 
orders.  And  if  ye  killed  this  Colin  to-morrow,  what 
better  would  ye  be  ?  There  would  be  another  factor  in 
his  shoes,  as  fast  as  spur  can  drive." 

"  Ye're  a  good  lad  in  a  fight,"  said  Alan  ;  "  but 
man  !  ye  have  Whig  blood  in  ye  ! " 

He  spoke  kindly  enough,  but  there  was  so  much 
,'inger  under  his  contempt  that  I  thought  it  was  wise  to 
change  the  conversation.  I  expressed  my  wonder  how, 
with  the  Highlands  covered  with  troops  and  guarded 
like  a  city  in  a  siege,  a  man  in  his  situation  could  come 
and  go  without  arrest. 

"It's  easier  than  ye  would  think,"  said  Alan.  "A 
hare  hillside  (ye  see)  is  like  all  one  road  ;  if  there's  a 
sentry  at  one  place  ye  Just  go  by  another.  And  then 
heather's  a  great  help.  And  everywhere  there  are 
friends'  houses  and  friends'  byres  and  haystacks.     And 


118  KIDNAPPED. 

besides,  when  folk  talk  of  a  country  covered  with  troops, 
it's  but  a  kind  of  a  byword  at  the  best,  A  soldier  covers 
nae  mair  of  it  than  his  boot-soles.  I  iiave  fished  a  water 
with  a  sentry  on  the  otiier  side  of  the  brae,  and 
killed  a  fine  trout;  and  I  have  sat  in  a  heather  bush 
within  six  feet  of  another,  and  learned  a  real  bonny 
tune  from  his  whistling.  This  was  it,"  said  he,  and 
whistled  me  the  air. 

''And  then,  besides,"  he  continued,  "  it's  no  sae  bad 
now  as  it  was  in  forty-six.  The  Hielands  are  what 
they  call  pacified.  Small  wonder,  with  never  a  gun 
or  a  sword  left  from  Cantyre  to  Cape  Wrath,  but  what 
tenty  folk  have  hidden  in  their  thatch  ?  But  wiiat  I 
would  like  to  ken,  David,  is  just  how  long  ?  Not  long, 
ye  would  think,  Avith  men  like  Ardshiel  in  exile  and 
men  like  the  Red  Fox  sitting  biding  the  wine  and  op- 
pressing the  poor  at  home.  But  it's  a  kittle  thing  to 
decide  what  folk  '11  bear,  and  what  they  will  not.  Or 
why  would  Red  Colin  be  riding  his  horse  all  over  my 
poor  country  of  Appin,  and  never  a  pretty  lad  to  put  a 
bullet  in  him  ?  " 

And  with  this  Alan  fell  into  a  muse,  and  for  a  long 
time  sate  very  sad  and  silent. 

I  will  add  the  rest  of  what  I  have  to  say  about  my 
friend,  that  he  was  skilled  in  all  kinds  of  music,  but 
principally  pipe-music  ;  was  a  well-considered  poet  in 
his  own  tongue  ;  had  read  several  books  both  in  French 
and  English  ;  was  a  dead  shot,  a  good  angler,  and  an 


KIDNAPPKD.  119 

excellent  fencer  with  the  small  sword  as  well  as  with 
his  own  particular  weapon.  For  his  faults,  they  were 
on  his  face,  and  1  now  knew  them  all.  But  the  worst 
of  them,  his  childish  propensity  to  take  offence  and  to 
pick  quarrels,  he  greatly  laid  aside  in  my  case,  out  of 
regard  for  the  battle  of  the  round-house.  But  whether 
it  was  because  I  had  done  well  myself,  or  because  I 
had  been  a  witness  of  his  own  much  greater  prowess,  is 
more  than  I  can  tell.  For  though  he  had  a  great 
taste  for  courage  in  other  men,  yet  he  admired  it  most 
in  Alan  Breck. 


(IIIAPTER    XIII. 

THE    LOSS   OF    THE    BRIG. 

It  was  already  late  at  night,  and  as  dark  as  it  ever 
would  be  at  that  season  of  the  year  (and  that  is  to  say, 
it,  was  still  pretty  bright),  when  lloseason  clapped  his 
head  into  the  round-house  door. 

''Here,"  said  he,  "come  out  and  see  if  ye  can 
pilot." 

"  Is  this  one  of  your  tricks  ?  "  asked  Alan. 

"  Do  I  look  like  tricks?"  cries  the  captain.  "I 
have  other  things  to  think  of — my  brig's  in  danger  !  " 

By  the  concerned  look  of  his  face,  and,  above  all,  by 
the  sharp  tones  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  brig,  it  was 
j)lain  to  both  of  us  he  was  in  deadly  earnest ;  and  so 
Alan  and  I,  with  no  great  fear  of  treachery,  stepped 
on  deck. 

The  sky  was  clear ;  it  blew  hard,  and  was  bitter 
cold  ;  a  great  deal  of  daylight  lingered  ;  and  the  moon, 
which  was  nearly  full,  shone  brightly.  The  brig  was 
close  hauled,  so  as  to  round  the  south-west  corner  of  the 
Island  of  Mull ;  the  hills  of  which  (and  Ben  More  above 
them  all,  with  a  wisp  of  mist  upon  the  top  of  it)  lay 
full  upon  the  larboard  bow.  Though  it  was  no  good 
point  of  sailing  for  the  Covenant,  she  tore  through  the 


KIDNAPPED.  121 

seas  at  a  great  rate,  pitching  and  straining,  and  pursued 
by  the  westerly  swell. 

Altogether  it  was  no  such  ill  night  to  keep  the  seas 
in  ;  and  I  had  begun  to  wonder  what  it  was  that  sat  so 
heavily  upon  the  captain,  when  the  brig  rising  suddenly 
on  the  top  of  a  high  swell,  he  pointed  and  cried  to  tis 
to  look.  Away  on  the  lee  bow,  a  thing  like  a  fountain 
rose  out  of  the  moonlit  sea,  and  immediately  after  we 
heard  a  low  sound  of  roaring. 

'•  What  do  ye  call  that  ?  "  asked  the  captain 
gloomily. 

"The  sea  breaking  on  a  reef,"  said  Alan.  "And 
now  ye  ken  where  it  is;  and  what  better  would  ye 
have  ?  " 

"Ay,"  said  Hoseason,  "if  it  was  the  only  one." 

And  sure  enough  just  as  he  spoke  there  came  a 
second  fountain  further  to  the  south. 

"  There  !"  said  Hoseason.  "  Ye  see  for  yourself.  If 
I  had  kent  of  these  reefs,  if  I  had  had  a  chart,  or  if 
Shuan  had  been  spared,  it's  not  sixty  guineas,  no,  nor 
six  hundred,  would  have  made  me  risk  my  brig  in  sic  a 
stoneyard  !  But  you,  sir,  that  was  to  pilot  us,  have  ye 
never  a  word  ?" 

"I'm  thinking,"  said  Alan,  "  these'll  be  what  they 
call  tiie  Torran  Rocks." 

"  Are  there  many  of  them  ?  "  says  the  captain. 

"Truly,  sir,  I  am  nae  pilot,"  said  Alan;  "but  it 
sticks  in  my  mind,  there  are  ten  miles  of  them." 


122  KIDNAPPED. 

Mr.  Riuch  and  the  captain  looked  at  each  other 

"There's  a  way  through  them,  I  suppose?"  said 
the  captain. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  Alan  ;  "  but  where  ?  But  it  some- 
how runs  in  my  mind  once  more,  that  it  is  clearer 
under  the  land." 

"So?"  said  Hoseason.  "We'll  have  to  haul  our 
wind  then,  Mr.  Riacli ;  we'll  have  to  come  as  near  in 
about  the  end  of  Mull  as  we  can  take  her,  sir  ;  and  even 
then  we'll  have  the  land  to  kep  the  wind  off  us,  and 
that  stoneyard  on  our  lee.  Well,  we're  in  for  it  now, 
and  may  as  well  crack  on." 

With  that  he  gave  an  order  to  the  steersman,  and 
sent  Riach  to  the  foretop.  There  were  only  five  men 
on  deck,  counting  the  oflficers  ;  these  were  all  that  were 
fit  (or,  at  least,  both  fit  and  willing)  for  their  work  ; 
and  two  of  these  were  hurt.  So,  as  I  say,  it  fell  to 
Mr.  Riach  to  go  aloft,  and  he  sat  there  looking  out  and 
hailing  the  deck  with  news  of  all  he  saw. 

"The  sea  to  the  south  is  thick,"  he  cried  ;  and  then, 
after  awhile,  "It  does  seem  clearer  in  by  the  land." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Hoseason  to  Alan,  "we'll  try  your 
way  of  it.  But  I  think  I  might  as  well  trust  to  a  blind 
fiddler.     Pray  God  you're  right." 

"Pray  God  I  am  !"  says  Alan  to  me.  "But  where 
did  I  hear  it  ?     Well,  well,  it  will  be  as  it  must." 

As  we  got  nearer  to  the  turn  of  the  laiul  the  reefs 
began  to  be  sown  here  and  there  on  our  very  path  ;  and 


KIDNAPPED.  123 

Mr.  Riach  sometimes  cried  down  to  us  to  change  the 
course.  Sometimes,  indeed,  none  too  soon ;  for  one 
reef  was  so  close  on  the  brig's  weather  board  that  when 
a  sea  burst  upon  it  the  lighter  sprays  fell  upon  her  deck 
and  wetted  us  like  rain. 

The  brightness  of  the  night  showed  us  these  perils  as 
clearly  as  by  day,  which  was,  perhaps,  the  more  alarm- 
ing. It  showed  me,  too,  the  face  of  the  captain  as  he 
stood  by  the  steersman,  now  on  one  foot,  now  on  the 
other,  and  sometimes  blowing  in  his  hands,  but  still 
listening  and  looking  and  as  steady  as  steel.  Neither 
he  nor  Mr.  Riach  had  shown  well  in  the  fighting  ;  but 
I  saw  they  were  brave  in  their  own  trade,  and  admired 
them  all  the  more  because  I  found  Alan  very  white. 

"Ochone,  David/'  said  he,  "this  is  no  the  kind  of 
death  I  fancy." 

"  What,  Alan  ! "  I  cried,  "  you're  not  afraid  ?  " 

''No,"  said  he,  wetting  his  lips,  "but  you'll  allow 
yourself,  it's  a  cold  ending." 

By  this  time,  now  and  then  sheering  to  one  side  or 
the  other  to  avoid  a  reef,  but  still  hugging  the  wind 
and  the  laud,  we  had  got  round  lona  and  begun  to 
come  alongside  Mull.  The  tide  of  the  tail  of  the  land 
ran  very  strong,  and  threw  the  brig  about.  Two  hands 
were  put  to  the  helm,  and  Hoseason  himself  would 
sometimes  lend  a  help  ;  and  it  was  strange  to  see  three 
strong  men  throw  their  weight  upon  the  tiller,  and  it 
(like  a  living  thing)  struggle  against  and  drive  them 


12-i  KIDNAPPED. 

back.  This  would  have  been  the  greater  danger,  had 
not  the  sea  been  for  some  while  free  of  obstacles.  Mr. 
Riach,  besides,  announced  from  the  top  that  he  saw 
clear  water  ahead. 

"Ye  were  right,"  said  Hoseason  to  Alan.  *'  Yc  have 
saved  the  brig,  sir  ;  I'll  mind  that  when  we  come  to 
clear  accounts."  And  I  believe  he  not  only  meant  what 
ho  said,  but  would  have  done  it ;  so  high  a  place  did 
the  Covenant  hold  in  his  affections. 

But  this  is  matter  only  for  conjecture,  things  having 
gone  otherwise  than  he  forecast. 

"Keep  her  away  a  point,"  sings  out  Mr.  Riach. 
**  Reef  to  windward  !  " 

And  just  at  the  same  time  the  tide  caught  the  brig, 
and  threw  the  wind  out  of  her  sails.  She  came  round 
into  the  wind  like  a  top,  and  the  next  moment  struck 
the  reef  with  such  a  dunch  as  threw  us  all  flat  upon  the 
deck,  and  came  near  to  shake  Mr.  Riach  from  his  place 
upon  the  mast. 

I  was  on  my  feet  in  a  minute.  The  reef  on  which 
we  iiad  struck  was  close  in  under  the  south-west  end  of 
Mull,  off  a  little  isle  they  call  Earraid,  which  lay  low 
and  black  upon  the  larboard.  Sometimes  the  swell 
broke  clean  over  us  ;  sometimes  it  only  ground  the  poor 
brig  upon  the  reef,  so  that  we  could  hear  her  beat  her- 
self to  pieces ;  and  what  with  the  great  noise  of  the 
sails,  and  the  singing  of  the  wind,  and  the  flying  of  the 
spray  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  sense  of  danger,  I  think 


KIDNAPPED.  125 

my  head  was  partly  turned,  for  1  could  scarcely  under- 
stand the  things  I  saw. 

Presently,  I  observed  Mr.  Eiacli  and  the  seamen  busy 
round  the  skiff ;  and  still  in  the  same  blank,  ran  over  to 
assist  them  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  set  my  hand  to  work,  my 
mind  came  clear  again.  It  was  no  very  easy  task,  for 
the  skiff  lay  amidships  and  was  full  of  hamper,  and  the 
breakinof  of  the  heavier  seas  continiiullv  forced  us  to 
give  over  and  hold  on  ;  but  we  all  wrought  like  horses 
while  we  could. 

Meanwhile  such  of  the  wounded  as  could  move  came 
clambering  out  of  the  fore-scuttle  and  began  to  help  ; 
while  the  rest  that  lay  helpless  in  their  bunks  harrowed 
me  with  screaming  and  begging  to  be  saved. 

The  captain  took  no  part.  It  seemed  he  was  struck 
stupid.  He  stood  holding  by  the  shrouds,  talking  to 
himself  and  groaning  out  aloud  whenever  the  ship  ham- 
mered on  the  rock.  His  brig  was  like  wife  and  child 
to  him ;  he  had  looked  on,  day  by  day,  at  the  mishand- 
ling of  poor  Ransome  ;  but  when  it  came  to  the  brig, 
he  seemed  to  suffer  along  with  her. 

All  the  time  of  our  working  at  the  boat,  I  remember 
only  one  other  thing  :  that  I  asked  Alan,  looking  across 
at  the  shore,  what  country  it  was  ;  and  he  answered,  it 
was  the  worst  possible  for  him,  for  it  was  a  land  of  the 
Campbells. 

We  had  one  of  the  wounded  men  told  off  to  keep  a 
watch  upon  the  seas  and  cry  us  warning.     Well,  we  had 


126  KIDNAPPED. 

the  boat  about  ready  to  be  launclied,  when  this  man 
sung  out  pretty  shrill:  "For  God's  sake,  hold  on!" 
We  knew  by  his  tone  that  it  was  something  more  than 
ordinary  ;  and  sure  enough,  there  followed  a  sea  so  huge 
that  it  lifted  the  brig  right  up  and  canted  hor  over  on 
licr  beam.  Whether  the  cry  came  too  late  or  my  hold 
was  too  weak,  I  know  not  ;  liut  at  the  sudden  tilting  of 
the  siiip,  I  was  cast  clean  over  the  bulwarks  into  the 
sea. 

I  went  down,  and  drank  my  fill;  and  then  came  up, 
and  got  a  blink  of  the  moon  ;  and  then  down  again. 
They  say  a  man  sinks  the  third  time  for  good.  I  cannot 
be  made  like  other  folk,  then;  for  I  would  not  like  to 
write  how  often  I  went  down  or  how  often  I  came  up 
again.  All  the  while,  I  was  being  hurled  along,  and 
beaten  upon  and  choked,  and  then  swallowed  whole ; 
and  tlu'  thing  was  so  distracting  to  my  wits,  that  I  was 
neither  sorry  nor  afraid. 

Presently,  I  found  I  was  holding  to  a  spar,  which 
helped  me  somewhat.  And  then  all  of  a  sudden  I  was 
in  quiet  water,  and  began  to  come  to  myself. 

It  was  the  spare  yard  I  had  got  hold  of,  and  I  was 
amazed  lo  see  how  far  I  had  travelled  from  the  brig.  I 
hailed  her,  indeed  ;  but  it  was  plain  she  was  already  out 
of  cry.  She  was  still  holding  together;  but  whether  or 
not  they  had  yet  launched  the  boat,  I  was  too  far  off 
and  too  low  down  to  see. 

While  I  was  iiailing  Ihe  brig,  I  spied  a  tract  of  wa- 


KIDNAPPED.  127 

ter  lying  between  us,  where  no  great  waves  came,  but 
which  yet  boiled  white  all  over  and  bristled  in  the  moon 
with  rings  and  bubbles.  Sometimes  the  whole  ti-act 
swung  to  one  side,  like  the  tail  of  a  live  sei-pent  ;  some- 
times, for  a  glimpse,  it  all  would  disappear  and  then 
boil  up  again.  What  it  was  I  had  no  guess,  which  for 
the  time  increased  my  fear  of  it  ;  but  I  now  know  it 
mast  have  been  the  roost  or  tide-race,  which  had  carried 
me  away  so  fast  and  tumbled  me  about  so  cruelly,  and 
at  last,  as  if  tired  of  that  play,  had  flung  out  me  and 
the  spare  yard  upon  its  landward  margin. 

I  now  lay  quite  becalmed,  and  began  to  feel  that  a 
man  can  die  of  cold  as  well  as  of  drowning.  The  shores 
of  Earraid  were  close  in  ;  I  could  see  in  the  moonlight 
the  dots  of  heather  and  the  sparkling  of  tlie  mica  in 
the  rocks. 

"Well,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "if  I  cannot  get  as 
far  as  that,  it's  strange  !  " 

I  had  no  skill  of  swimming,  Essen  water  being  small 
in  our  neighbourhood  ;  but  when  I  laid  hold  upon  the 
yard  with  both  arms,  and  kicked  out  with  both  feet,  I 
soon  begun  to  find  that  I  was  moving.  Hard  work  it 
was,  and  mortally  slow  ;  but  in  about  an  hour  of  kicking 
and  splashing,  I  had  got  well  in  between  the  points  of  a 
sandy  bay  surrounded  by  low  hills. 

The  sea  was  here  quite  quiet  ;  there  was  no  sound  of 
anv  surf  ;  the  moon  shone  clear  ;  and  I  thought  in  my 
heart  I  had  never  seen  a  place  so  desert  and  desolate. 


128  KIDNAPPED. 

But  it  was  dry  land  ;  and  when  at  last  it  grew  so  shallow 
that  I  could  leave  the  yard  and  wade  ashore  upon  my 
feet,  I  cannot  tell  if  I  was  more  tired  or  moi-e  grateful. 
Both  at  least,  I  was :  tired  as  I  never  was  before  that 
night  ;  and  grateful  to  God,  as  I  trust  I  have  been  ofteti; 
though  never  with  more  cause. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE   ISLET. 

With  my  stepping  ashore,  I  began  the  most  unhappy 
part  of  my  adventures.  It  was  half-past  twelve  in  the 
morning,  and  though  the  wind  was  broken  by  the  land, 
it  was  a  cold  night.  I  dared  not  sit  down  (for  I  thought 
I  should  have  frozen),  but  took  off  my  shoes  and 
walked  to  and  fro  upon  the  sand,  barefoot  and  beating 
my  breast,  with  infinite  weariness.  There  was  no  sound 
of  man  or  cattle  ;  not  a  cock  crew,  though  it  was  about 
the  hour  of  their  first  waking  ;  only  the  surf  broke  out- 
side in  the  distance,  which  put  me  in  mind  of  my  perils 
and  those  of  my  friend.  To  walk  by  the  sea  at  that 
hour  of  the  morning,  and  in  a  place  so  desert-like  and 
lonesome,  struck  me  with  a  kind  of  fear. 

As  soon  as  the  day  began  to  break,  I  put  on  my  shoes 
and  climbed  a  hill — the  ruggedest  scramble  I  ever  un- 
dertook— falling,  the  whole  way,  between  big  blocks  of 
granite  or  leaping  from  one  to  another.  When  I  got  to 
the  top  the  dawn  was  come.  There  was  no  sign  of  the 
brig,  which  must  have  lifted  from  the  reef  and  sunk. 
The  boat,  too,  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  There  was 
never  a  sail  upon  the  ocean  ;  and  in  what  I  could  see  of 

the  land,  was  neither  house  nor  man. 
9 


130  KIDNAPPED. 

I  Avas  al'raicl  to  think  what  had  befallen  my  ship- 
mates, and  afraid  to  look  longer  at  so  empty  a  scene. 
What  with  my  wet  clothes  and  weariness,  and  my  belly 
that  now  began  to  ache  with  hnngcr,  I  had  enough  to 
i  rouble  me  without  that.  So  I  set  oif  eastward  along 
the  south  coast,  hoping  to  find  a  house  where  I  might 
warm  myself,  and  perhaps  get  news  of  those  I  had  lost. 
And  at  the  worst,  I  considered  the  sun  would  soon  rise 
and  dry  my  clothes. 

After  a  little,  my  way  was  stopped  by  a  creek  or  inlet 
of  the  sea,  which  seemed  to  run  pretty  deep  into  the 
land  ;  and  as  I  had  no  means  to  get  across,  I  must  needs 
change  my  direction  to  go  about  the  end  of  it.  It  was 
still  the  roughest  kind  of  w^alking ;  indeed  tlie  whole, 
not  only  of  Earraid,  l)ut  of  the  neighbouring  part  of 
Mull  (which  they  call  the  Eoss)  is  nothing  but  a  jumble 
of  granite  rocks  with  heather  in  among.  At  first  the 
creek  kept  narrowing  as  I  had  looked  to  see  ;  but  pres- 
ently to  my  surprise  it  began  to  widen  out  again.  At 
this  I  scratched  my  head,  but  had  still  no  noHon  of  the 
truth  ;  until  at  last  I  came  to  a  rising  ground,  and  it 
burst  upon  me  all  in  a  moment  that  I  was  cast  upon  a 
little,  barren  isle,  and  cut  off  on  every  side  by  the  salt 
seas. 

Instead  of  the  sun  rising  to  dry  me,  it  came  on  to 
rain,  with  a  thick  mist;  so  that  my  case  was  lament- 
able. 

I  stood  in  the  rain,  and  shivered,  and  wondered  what 


KIDNAPPED.  -  131 

to  do,  till  it  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  the  creek  was 
fordable.  Back  I  went  to  the  narrowest  point  and 
waded  in.  But  not  three  yards  from  shore,  I  plumped 
in  head  over  ears  ;  and  if  ever  I  was  heard  of  more  it 
was  rather  by  God's  grace  than  my  own  prudence.  I 
was  no  wetter  (for  that  could  hardly  be),  but  I  was  all 
the  colder  for  this  mishap  ;  and  having  lost  another 
hope,  was  the  more  unhappy. 

And  now,  all  at  once,  the  yard  came  in  my  head. 
What  had  carried  me  through  the  roost,  would  surely 
serve  me  to  cross  this  little  quiet  creek  in  safety.  With 
that  I  set  off,  undaunted,  across  the  top  of  the  isle,  to 
fetch  and  carry  it  back.  It  was  a  weary  tramp  in  all 
ways,  and  if  hope  had  not  buoyed  me  np,  I  must  have 
cast  myself  down  and  given  up.  AVhether  with  the 
sea  salt,  or  because  I  was  growing  fevered,  I  was  dis- 
tressed with  thirst,  and  had  to  stop,  as  I  went,  and 
drink  the  peaty  water  out  of  the  hags. 

I  came  to  the  bay  at  last,  more  dead  than  alive  ;  and 
at  the  first  glance,  I  thought  the  yard  was  something 
further  out  than  when  I  left  it.  In  I  went,  for  the 
third  time,  into  the  sea.  The  sand  was  smooth  and 
firm  and  shelved  gradually  down  ;  so  that  I  could  wade 
out  till  the  water  was  almost  to  my  neck  and  the  little 
waves  splashed  into  my  face.  But  at  that  depth  my 
feet  began  to  leave  me  and  I  durst  venture  in  no 
further.  As  for  the  yard,  I  saw  it  bobbing  very  quietly 
some  twenty  feet  in  front  of  me. 


132  KIDNAPPED. 

I  hud  borne  up  well  until  this  last  dis;i])pointmont ; 
but  lit  that  I  came  ashore,  and  Hung  myself  down  upon 
the  sands  and  wept. 

The  time  I  spent  upon  tlic  island  is  still  so  horrible 
a  thought  to  me,  that  I  must  pass  it  lightly  over.  In 
all  the  books  I  have  read  of  people  cast  away,  they  had 
either  their  pockets  full  of  tools,  or  a  chest  of  things 
would  be  thrown  upon  the  beach  along  with  them,  as 
if  on  ])urpose.  My  case  was  very  different.  I  had 
nothing  in  my  pockets  but  money  and  Alan's  silver 
button  ;  and  being  inland  bred,  I  was  as  much  short  of 
knowledge  as  of  means. 

I  knew  indeed  tiiat  sheil-flsli  were  counted  good  to 
eat ;  and  among  the  rocks  of  the  isle  I  found  a  great 
plenty  of  limpets,  which  at  first  I  could  scarcely  strike 
from  their  places,  not  knowing  quickness  to  be  needful. 
There  were,  besides,  some  of  the  little  shells  that  we 
call  buckles  ;  I  think  periwinkle  is  the  English  name. 
Of  these  two  I  made  my  whole  diet,  devouring  them  ^j^ 
cold  and  raw  as  I  found  them  ;  and  so  hungry  was  I, 
that  at  first  they  seemed  to  mo  delicious. 

Perhaps  they  were  out  of  season,  or  perhaps  there 
was  something  wrong  in  the  sea  about  my  island.  But 
at  least  I  had  no  sooner  eaten  my  first  meal  than  I  was 
seized  with  giddiness  and  retching,  and  lay  for  a  long 
time  no  better  than  dead.  A  second  trial  of  the  same, 
food  (indeed  I  had  no  other)  did  better  with  me  and 
revived   my   strength.     But  as   long  as   I   was   on    the 


f 


KIDNAPFED.  133 

island,  I  never  knew  what  to  expect  when  I  had  eaten  ; 
sometimes  all  was  well,  and  sometimes  I  was  thrown 
into  a  miserable  sickness  ;  nor  could  I  ever  distinguish 
what  particular  fish  it  was  that  hurt  me. 

All  day  it  streamed  rain  ;  the  island  ran  like  a  sop  ; 
there  was  no  dry  spot  to  be  found  ;  and  when  I  lay 
down  that  night,  between  two  boulders  that  made  a 
kind  of  roof,  my  feet  were  in  a  bog. 

The  second  day,  I  crossed  the  island  to  all  sides. 
There  was  no  one  part  of  it  better  than  another  ;  it  was 
all  desolate  and  rocky  ;  nothing  living  on  it  but  game 
birds  which  I  lacked  the  means  to  kill,  and  the  gulls 
which  haunted  the  outlying  rocks  in  a  prodigious  num- 
ber. But  the  creek,  or  straits,  that  cut  off  the  isle  from 
the  main  land  of  the  Ross,  opened  out  on  the  iiorth  into 
a  bay,  and  the  bay  again  opened  into  the  Sound  of  lona; 
and  it  was  the  neighbourhood  of  this  place  that  I  chose 
to  be  my  home  ;  though  if  I  had  thought  upon  the  very 
name  of  home  in  such  a  spot,  I  must  have  burst  out 
crying. 

I  had  good  reasons  for  my  choice.  There  was  in  this 
part  of  the  isle  a  little  hut  of  a  house  like  a  pig's  hut, 
where  fishers  used  to  sleep  when  they  came  there  upon 
their  business  ;  but  the  turf  roof  of  it  had  fallen  entirely 
in^  so  that  the  hut  was  of  no  use  to  me,  and  gave  me 
less  shelter  than  my  rocks.  What  was  more  important, 
the  shell-fish  on  which  I  lived  grew  there  in  great 
plenty  ;  when  the  tide  was  out  I  could  gather  a  peck  at 


134  KIDNAPPED. 

a  time  :  and  this  was  doubtless  a  convenience.  But  the 
other  reason  went  deeper.  I  luul  become  in  no  way 
used  to  the  horrid  solitude  of  the  isle,  but  still  looked 
round  me  on  all  sides  (like  a  man  that  was  hunted) 
between  fear  and  hope  that  I  might  see  some  human 
creature  coming.  Now,  from  a  little  up  the  hillside 
over  the  bay,  I  could  catch  a  sight  of  the  great,  ancient 
church  and  the  roofs  of  the  people's  houses  in  lona. 
And  on  the  other  hand,  over  the  low  country  of  the 
Ross,  I  saw  smoke  go  up,  morning  and  evening,  as  if 
from  a  homestead  in  a  hollow  of  the  land. 

I  used  to  watch  this  smoke,  when  I  was  wet  and  cold, 
and  had  my  head  half  turned  with  loneliness ;  and 
think  of  the  fireside  and  the  company,  till  my  heart 
burned.  It  was  the  same  with  the  roofs  of  lona. 
Altogether,  this  sight  I  had  of  men's  homes  and  com- 
fortable lives,  although  it  ])ut  a  point  on  my  own 
sufferings,  yet  it  kept  hope  alive,  and  helped  me  to  eat 
my  raw  shell-fish  (which  had  soon  grown  to  be  a  dis-  ^ 
gust)  and  saved  me  from  the  sense  of  horror  I  had  ^ 
whenever  I  was  quite  alone  with  dead  rocks,  and  fowls, 
and  the  rain,  and  the  cold  sea. 

I  say  it  kept  hope  alive  ;  and  indeed  it  seemed  impos- 
sible that  I  should  be  left  to  die  on  the  shores  of  my  own 
country,  and  within  view  of  a  church  tower  and  the 
smoke  of  men's  houses.  But  the  second  day  passed  ; 
and  though  as  long  as  the  light  lasted  I  kept  a  bright 
look-out  for  boats  on  the  Sound  or  men  ])assi ng  on  the 


^ 


KIDNAPPED.  135 

Ross,  no  help  came  near  me.  It  still  rained  ;  and  I 
turned  in  to  sleep,  as  wet  as  ever  and  with  a  cruel  sore 
throat,  but  a  little  comforted,  perhaps,  by  having  said 
good-night  to  my  next  neighbours,  the  people  of 
lona. 

Charles  the  Second  declared  a  man  could  stay  out- 
doors more  days  in  the  year  in  the  climate  of  England 
than  in  any  other.  This  was  very  like  a  king  with  a 
palace  at  his  back  and  changes  of  dry  clothes.  But  he 
must  have  had  better  luck  on  his  flight  from  Worcester 
than  I  had  on  that  miserable  isle.  It  w^as  the  height  of 
the  summer ;  yet  it  rained  for  more  than  twenty-four 
hours,  and  did  not  clear  until  the  afternoon  of  the  third 
day. 

This  was  the  day  of  incidents.  In  the  morning  I 
saw  a  red  deer,  a  buck  with  a  fine  spread  of  antlers, 
standing  in  the  rain  on  the  top  of  the  island  ;  but  he 
had  scarce  seen  me  rise  from  under  my  rock,  before  he 
trotted  off  upon  the  other  side.  I  supposed  he  must 
have  swum  the  straits  ;  though  what  should  bring  any 
creature  to  Earraid,  was  more  than  I  could  fancy. 

A  little  after,  as  I  was  jumping  about  after  my 
limpets,  I  was  startled  by  a  guinea  piece,  which  fell 
upon  a  rock  in  front  of  me  and  glanced  off  into  the  sea. 
When  the  sailors  gave  me  my  money  again,  they  kept 
back  not  only  about  a  third  of  the  whole  sum,  but  my 
father's  leather  purse  ;  so  that  from  that  day  out,  I  car- 
ried my  gold  loose  in  a  pocket  with  a  button.  I  now  saw 


136  KIDNAPPED, 

there  must  be  a  hole,  and  clapped  my  hand  to  the  place 
in  a  great  hurry.  But  this  was  to  lock  the  stable  door 
after  the  steed  was  stolen.  I  had  left  the  shore  at 
Queensferry  with  near  on  fifty  pounds  ;  now  I  found  no 
more  than  two  guinea  pieces  and  a  silver  shilling. 

It  is  true  I  picked  up  a  third  guinea  a  little  after, 
where  it  lay  shining  on  a  piece  of  turf.  That  made  a 
fortune  of  three  pounds  and  four  shillings,  English 
money,  for  a  lad,  the  rightful  heir  of  an  estate,  and  now 
starving  on  an  isle  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  wild  High- 
lands, 

This  state  of  my  affairs  dashed  me  still  further;  and 
indeed  my  plight  on  that  third  morning  was  truly  piti- 
ful. My  clothes  were  beginning  to  rot ;  my  stockings 
in  particular  were  quite  worn  through,  so  that  my 
shanks  went  naked  ;  my  hands  had  grown  quite  soft 
with  the  continual  soaking ;  my  throat  was  very  sore, 
my  strength  had  much  abated,  and  my  heart  so  turned 
against  the  horrid  stuff  I  was  condemned  to  eat,  that 
the  very  sight  of  it  came  near  to  sicken  me. 

And  yet  the  worst  was  not  yet  come. 

There  is  a  pretty  high  rock  on  the  north-west  of 
Earraid,  which  (because  it  had  a  flat  top  and  overlooked 
the  Sound)  I  was  much  in  the  habit  of  frequenting;  not 
that  ever  I  stayed  in  one  place,  save  when  asleep,  my 
misery  giving  me  no  rest.  Indeed,  I  wore  myself  down 
with  continual  and  aimless  goings  and  comings  in  the 
rain. 


• 


KIDNAPPED.  137 

As  soon,  however,  as  the  sun  came  out,  I  lay  down 
on  the  top  of  that  rock  to  dry  myself.  The  comfort  of 
the  sunshine  is  a  thing  I  cannot  tell.  It  set  me  think- 
ing hopefully  of  my  deliverance,  of  which  I  had  begun 
to  despair  ;  and  I  scanned  the  sea  and  the  Ross  with  a 
fresh  interest.  On  the  south  of  my  rock,  a  part  of  the 
island  jutted  out  and  hid  the  open  ocean,  so  that  a  boat 
could  thus  come  quite  near  me  upon  that  side,  and  I  be 
none  the  wiser. 

Well,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  coble  with  a  brown  sail  and 
a  pair  of  fishers  aboard  of  it,  came  flying  round  that 
corner  of  the  isle,  bound  for  lona.  I  shouted  out,  and 
then  fell  on  my  knees  on  the  rock  and  reached  up  my 
hands  and  prayed  to  them.  They  were  near  enough  to 
hear — I  could  even  see  the  colour  of  their  hair ;  and 
there  was  no  doubt  but  they  observed  me,  for  they  cried 
out  in  the  Gaelic  tongue  and  laughed.  But  the  boat 
never  turned  aside,  and  flew  on,  right  before  my  eyes, 
for  lona. 

I  could  not  believe  such  wickedness,  and  ran  along 
the  shore  from  rock  to  rock,  crying  on  them  piteously ; 
even  after  they  were  out  of  reach  of  my  voice,  I  still 
cried  and  waved  to  them ;  and  when  they  were  quite 
gone,  I  thought  my  heart  would  have  burst.  All  the 
time  of  my  troubles,  I  wept  only  twice.  Once,  when  I 
could  not  reach  the  oar  ;  and  now,  the  second  time, 
when  these  fishers  turned  a  deaf  car  to  my  cries.  But 
this  time  I  wept  and  roared  like  a  wicked  child,  tearing 


138  KIDNAPPED. 

up  the  turf  with  my  nails  and  grinding  my  face  in  the 
earth.  If  a  wisli  would  kill  men,  those  two  fishers 
would  never  have  seen  morning  ;  and  I  should  likely 
have  died  upon  my  island. 

When  I  was  a  little  over  my  anger,  I  must  eat  again, 
but  Avith  such  loathing  of  the  mess  as  I  could  now 
scarcely  control.  Sure  enough,  I  should  have  done  as 
well  to  fast,  for  my  fishes  poisoned  me  again.  I  had  all 
my  first  pains ;  my  throat  was  so  sore  I  could  scarce 
swallow ;  I  had  a  fit  of  strong  shuddering,  which 
clucked  my  teeth  together ;  and  there  came  on  me  that 
dreadful  sense  of  illness,  which  we  have  no  name  for 
either  in  Scotch  or  English.  I  thought  I  should  have 
died,  and  made  my  peace  with  God,  forgiving  all  men, 
even  my  uncle  and  the  fishers  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  had 
thus  made  up  my  mind  to  the  worst,  clearness  came 
ujion  me  :  I  observed  the  night  was  falling  dry ;  my 
clothes  were  dried  a  good  deal  ;  truly,  I  was  in  a  better 
case  than  ever  before,  since  I  had  landed  on  the  isle;^^ 
and  so  I  got  to  sleep  at  last,  with  a  thought  of 
gratitude. 

The  next  day  (which  was  the  fourth  of  this  horrible 
life  of  mine)  I  found  my  bodily  strength  run  very  low. 
But  the  sun  shone,  the  air  was  sweet,  and  what  I  man- 
aged to  eat  of  the  shell-fish,  agreed  well  with  me  and 
revived  my  courage. 

I  was  scarce  back  on  my  rock  (where  I  went  always 
the  first  thing  after  I  had  eaten)  before  I  observed  a 


# 


KIDNAPPED.  139 

boat  coming  down  the  Sound  and  with  her  head,  as  I 
thought,  in  my  direction, 

I  began  at  once  to  hope  and  fear  exceedingly  ;  for  I 
thought  tliese  men  might  have  thought  better  of  their 
cruelty  and  be  coming  back  to  my  assistance.  But 
another  disappointment,  such  as  yesterday's,  was  more 
than  I  could  bear.  I  turned  my  back,  accordingly,  upon 
the  sea,  and  did  not  look  again  till  I  had  counted  many 
hundreds.  The  boat  was  still  heading  for  the  island. 
The  next  time  I  counted  the  full  thousand,  as  slowly  as 
I  could,  my  heart  beating  so  as  to  hurt  me.  And  then 
it  was  out  of  all  question.  She  was  coming  straight  to 
Ear  raid  I 

I  could  no  longer  hold  myself  back,  but  ran  to  the 
sea-side  and  out,  from  one  rock  to  another,  as  far  as  I 
could  go.  It  is  a  marvel  I  was  not  drowned  ;  for  when 
I  was  brought  to  a  stand  at  last,  my  legs  shook  under 
me,  and  my  mouth  was  so  dry,  I  must  wet  it  with  the 
y^  sea-water  before  I  was  able  to  shout. 

All  this  time  the  boat  was  coming  on  ;  and  now  I 
was  able  to  perceive  it  was  the  same  boat  and  the  same 
two  men  as  yesterday.  This  I  knew  by  their  hair,  which 
the  one  had  of  a  bright  yellow  and  the  other  black.  But 
now  there  was  a  third  man  along  with  them,  who  looked 
to  be  of  a  better  class. 

As  soon  as  they  were  come  Avithin  easy  speech,  they 
let  down  their  sail  and  lay  quiet.  In  spite  of  my  sup- 
plications, they  drew  no  nearer  in,  and  what  frightened 


140  KIDNAPPED. 

niG  most  of  all,  the  new  man  tee-heeM  with  laughter  as 
he  lalkod  and  looked  at  nie, 

'IMion  he  stood  np  in  the  boat  and  addressed  me  a 
long  while,  speaking  fast  and  with  many  wavings  of  his 
liand.  I  told  him  I  had  no  (raelic  ;  and  at  this  he  be- 
came very  angry,  and  I  began  to  suspect  he  thought  he 
was  talking  English.  Listening  very  close,  I  caught 
the  word  "whateffer"  several  times;  but  all  the  rest 
was  Gaelic,  and  might  have  been  (xrcok  and  Hebrew  for 
me. 

''  Whatever,"  said  I,  to  show  him  I  had  caught  a 
word. 

''Yes,  yes— yes,  yes,"  says  he,  and  then  he  looked  at 
the  other  men,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  I  told  you  I  s])oke 
English,"  and  began  again  as  hard  as  ever  in  the 
Gaelic. 

This  time  I  picked  out  another  word,  "  tide."  Then 
I  had  a  flash  of  hope.  I  remembered  he  was  always 
waving  his  hand  towards  the  mainland  of  the  Ross. 

"Y>o  you  mean  when  the  tide  is  out ?  "  T  cried, 

and  could  not  finish. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  he.     "Tide." 

At  that  I  turned  tail  upon  their  boat  (where  my  ad- 
viser had  once  more  begun  to  tee-iiee  with  laughter), 
leaped  back  the  way  I  had  come,  from  one  stone  to 
another,  and  set  off  running  across  the  isle  as  I  had  never 
run  before.  In  about  half  an  hour  I  came  out  upon  the 
shores  of  the  creek ;  and,  sure  enough,  it  was    shrunk 


KIDNAPPED.  141 

into  a  little  trickle  of  water,  through  which  I  dashed, 
not  above  my  knees,  and  landed  with  a  shout  on  the 
main  island. 

A  sea-bred  boy  would  not  have  stayed  a  day  on 
Earraid  ;  which  is  only  what  they  call  a  tidal  islet,  and 
except  in  the  bottom  of  the  neaps,  can  be  entered  and 
left  twice  in  every  twenty-four  hours,  either  dry-shod, 
or  at  the  most  by  wading.  Even  I,  Avho  had  the  tide 
going  out  and  in  before  me  in  the  bay,  and  even  watched 
for  the  ebbs,  the  better  to  get  my  shell-fish — even  I  (I 
say),  if  I  had  sat  down  to  think,  instead  of  raging  at 
my  fate,  must  have  soon  guessed  the  secret  and  got  free. 
It  was  no  wonder  the  fishers  had  not  understood  me. 
The  wonder  was  rather  that  they  had  ever  guessed  my 
pitiful  illusion,  and  taken  the  trouble  to  come  back.  I 
had  starved  with  cold  and  hunger  on  that  island  for 
close  upon  one  hundred  hours.  But  for  the  fishers,  I 
might  have  left  my  bones  there,  in  pure  folly.  And 
even  as  it  was,  I  had  paid  for  it  pretty  dear,  not  only 
in  past  sufferings,  but  in  my  present  case  ;  being  clothed 
like  a  beggar- man,  scarce  able  to  walk,  and  in  great 
pain  of  my  sore  throat. 

I  have  seen  Avicked  men  and  fools,  a  great  many  of 
both  ;  and  I  believe  they  both  get  paid  in  the  end  ;  but 
the  fools  first. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THK    LAI)    AVITH    THE    SILVER    BUTTON  :    THROUGH     THE 

ISLE    OE    MULL. 

The  Ross  of  Mull,  which  I  liiid  now  got  upon,  was 
rugged  and  trackless,  like  the  isle  I  had  just  left  ; 
being  all  bog,  and  briar,  and  big  stone.  There  may  be 
roads  for  them  that  know  that  countiy  well ;  but  for 
my  part  I  had  no  better  guide  than  my  own  nose,  and 
no  other  landmark  than  Ben  More. 

I  aimed  as  well  as  I  could  for  the  smoke  I  had  seen 
so  often  from  the  island  ;  and  with  all  my  great  weari- 
ness and  the  diflQculty  of  the  way,  came  upon  the  house 
at  the  bottom  of  u  little  hollow,  about  five  or  six  at 
night.  It  was  low  and  longish,  roofed  with  turf  and 
built  of  un  mortared  stones  ;  and  on  a  mound  in  front 
of  it,  an  old  gentleman  sat  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  sun. 

With  what  little  English  he  had,  he  gave  me  to 
understand  that  my  shipmates  had  got  safe  ashore,  and 
had  broken  bread  in  that  very  house  on  the  day  after. 

''Was  there  one,"  I  asked,  "dressed  like  a  gentle- 
man ?  " 

He  said  they  all  wore  rough  great-coats ;  but  to 
be  sure,  the  first   of   them,  the  one  that  came  alone. 


KIDNAPPED.  143 

wore  breeches  ;ind  stockings,  while  the  rest  had  sailors' 
trousers. 

"Ah,"  said  I,  "and  he  would  have  a  feathered 
hat  ?  " 

He  told  me,  no,  that  he  was  bare-headed  like  my- 
self. 

At  first  I  thought  Alan  might  have  lost  his  hat ;  and 
then  the  rain  came  in  my  mind,  and  I  judged  it  more 
likely  he  had  it  out  of  harm's  way  under  his  great-coat. 
This  set  me  smiling,  partly  because  my  friend  was  safe, 
partly  to  think  of  his  vanity  in  dress. 

And  then  the  old  gentleman  clapped  his  hand  to  his 
brow,  and  cried  out  that  I  must  be  the  lad  with  the 
silver  button. 

''  Why,  yes  !  "  said  I,  in  some  wonder. 

*'  Well,  then,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  have  a 
word  for  you  that  you  are  to  follow  your  friend  to  his 
country,  by  Torosay." 

He  then  asked  me  how  I  had  fared,  and  I  told  him 
my  tale.  A  south-country  man  would  certainly  have 
laughed  ;  but  this  old  gentleman  (I  call  him  so  because 
of  his  manners,  for  his  clothes  were  dropping  off  his 
back)  heard  me  all  tlirough  with  nothing  but  gravity 
and  pity.  When  I  had  done,  he  took  me  by  the  hand, 
led  me  into  his  hut  (it  was  no  better)  and  presented  me 
before  his  wife,  as  if  she  had  been  the  Queen  and  I  a 
duke. 

The  good  woman  set  oat-bread  before  me  and  a  cold 


144  KIDNAPPED. 

grouse,  i>utling  my  shoulder  and  smiling  to  me  all  the 
time,  for  she  had  no  English  ;  and  the  old  gentleman 
(not  to  be  behind)  brewed  me  a  strong  punch  out  of 
their  country  spirit.  All  the  while  I  was  eating,  and 
after  that  when  I  was  drinking  the  punch,  I  could 
scarce  come  to  believe  in  my  good  fortune  ;  and  the 
house,  though  it  was  thick  with  the  peat-smoke  and  as 
full  of  holes  {is  a  colander,  seemed  like  a  palace. 

The  punch  threw  me  in  a  strong  sweat  and  a  deep 
slumber;  the  good  people  let  me  lie;  and  it  was  near 
noon  of  the  next  day  before  I  took  the  road,  my  throat 
already  easier  and.  my  spirits  quite  restored  by  good  fare 
and  good  news.  The  old  gentleman,  although  I  l^ressed 
him  hard,  would  take  no  money,  and  gave  me  an  old 
bonnet  for  my  head  ;  though  I  am  free  to  own  I  was  no 
sooner  out  of  view  of  the  house  than  I  very  jealously 
washed  this  gift  of  his  in  a  Avayside  fountain. 

Thought  I  to  myself  :  "If  these  are  the  wild  High- 
landers, I  could  wish  my  own  folk  wilder." 

I  not  only  started  late,  but  I  must  have  wandered 
nearly  half  the  time.  True,  I  met  plenty  of  people, 
grubbing  in  little  miserable  fields  that  would  not  keep 
a  cat,  or  herding  little  kine  about  the  bigness  of  asses. 
The  Highland  dress  being  forbidden  by  law  since  the 
rel)ellion,  and  the  people  condemned  to  the  lowland 
habit,  which  they  much  disliked,  it  was  strange  to  see 
the  variety  of  their  array.  Some  went  bare,  only  for  a 
hanging  cloak  or  great-coat,  and  carried  their  trousers 


KIDNAPPED.  145 

on  their  backs  like  a  useless  burthen ;  some  had  made 
an  imitation  of  the  tartan  with  little  parti-coloured 
stripes  patched  together  like  an  old  wife's  quilt ;  others, 
again,  still  wore  the  Highland  philabeg,  but  by  putting 
a  few  stitches  between  the  legs,  transformed  it  into  a 
pair  of  trousers  like  a  Dutchman's.  All  those  make- 
shifts were  condemned  and  punished,  for  the  law  was 
harshly  applied,  in  hopes  to  break  up  the  clan  spirit ; 
but  in  that  out-of-the-way,  seabound  isle,  there  were 
few  to  make  remarks  and  fewer  to  tell  tales. 

They  seemed  in  great  poverty  :  which  was  no  doubt 
natural,  now  that  rapine  was  put  down,  and  the  chiefs 
kept  no  longer  an  open  house  ;  and  the  roads  (even  such 
a  wandering,  country  by-track  as  the  one  I  followed) 
were  infested  with  beggars.  And  here  again  I  marked 
a  difference  from  my  own  part  of  the  country.  For  our 
lowland  beggars — even  the  gownsmen  themselves,  who 
beg  by  patent — had  a  louting,  flattering  way  with  them, 
and  if  you  gave  them  a  jilack  and  asked  change,  would 
very  civilly  return  you  a  boddle.  But  these  Highland 
beggars  stood  on  their  dignity,  asked  alms  only  to  buy 
snuff  (by  their  account)  and  would  give  no  change. 

To  be  sure,  this  was  no  concern  of  mine,  except  in  so 

far  as  it  entertained  me  by  the  way.     What  was  much 

more  to  the  purpose,  few  had  any  English,  and  these 

few   (unless  they  were  of  the  brotherhood  of  beggars) 

not  very  anxious   to    place  it   at  my  service.     I   knew 

Torosay  to  be  my  destination,  and  repeated  the  name  to 
10 


146  KIDNAPPED. 

them  and  pointed  ;  but  instead  of  simply  pointing  in 
reply,  they  would  give  nie  a  screed  of  the  Gaelic  that 
set  me  foolish  ;  so  it  was  small  wonder  if  I  went  out  of 
my  road  as  often  as  I  stayed  in  it. 

At  last,  about  eight  at  night,  and  already  very 
weary,  I  came  to  a  lone  house,  where  I  asked  admit- 
tance and  was  refused,  until  I  bethought  me  of  the 
power  of  money  in  so  jwor  a  country,  and  held  up  one 
of  my  guineas  in  my  finger  and  thunil).  Thereupon, 
the  man  of  the  house,  who  had  hitherto  pretended  to 
have  no  English  "and  driven  me  from  his  door  by 
signals,  suddenly  began  to  speak  as  clearly  as  was  need- 
ful, and  agreed  for  five  shillings  to  give  me  a  night's 
lodging  and  guide  me  the  next  day  to  Torosay. 

I  slept  uneasily  that  night,  fearing  I  should  be 
robbed  ;  but  I  might  have  spared  myself  the  pain  ;  for 
my  host  was  no  robber,  only  miserably  poor  and  a  great 
cheat.  He  was  not  alone  in  his  poverty  ;  for  the  next 
morning,  we  must  go  five  miles  about  to  the  house  of 
what  he  called  a  rich  man  to  have  one  of  my  guineas 
changed.  This  was  perhaps  a  rich  man  for  Mull ;  he 
would  have  scarce  been  thought  so  in  the  south  ;  for  it 
took  all  he  had,  the  whole  house  was  turned  upside 
down,  and  a  neighbour  brought  under  contribution, 
before  he  could  scrape  together  twenty  shillings  in 
silver.  Tlie  odd  shilling  he  kept  for  himself,  protesting 
he  could  ill  afford  to  have  so  great  a  sum  of  money 
lying  'Hocked  up."     For  all  that  he  was  very  courteous 


KIDNAPPED.  147 

and  well  spoken,  made  us  both  sifc  down  with  his  family 
to  dinner,  and  brewed  punch  in  a  fine  china  bowl ;  over 
which  my  rascal  guide  grcAV  so  merry  that  he  refused  to 
start. 

I  was  for  getting  angry,  and  appealed  to  the  rich 
man  (Hector  Maclean  was  his  name)  who  had  been  a 
witness  to  our  bargain  and  to  my  payment  of  the  live 
shillings.  But  Maclean  had  taken  his  share  of  the 
punch,  and  vowed  that  no  gentleman  should  leave  his 
table  after  the  bowl  was  brewed  ;  so  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  sit  and  hear  Jacobite  toasts  and  Gaelic 
songs,  till  all  were  tipsy  and  staggered  off  to  the  bed  or 
the  barn  for  their  night's  rest. 

Next  day  (the  fourth  of  my  travels)  we  were  up  be- 
fore five  upon  the  clock,  but  my  rascal  guide  got  to  the 
bottle  at  once  ;  and  it  was  three  hours  before  I  had  him 
clear  of  the  house,  and  then  (as  you  shall  hear)  only  for 
a  worse  disappointment. 

As  long  as  we  went  down  a  heathery  valley  that  lay 
before  Mr.  Maclean's  house,  all  went  well ;  only  my 
guide  looked  constantly  over  his  shoulder,  and  when  I 
asked  him  the  cause,  only  grinned  at  me.  No  sooner, 
however,  had  we  crossed  the  back  of  a  hill,  and  got  oiit 
of  sight  of  the  back  Avindows,  than  he  told  me  Torosay 
lay  right  in  front,  and  that  a  hill-top  (which  he  pointed 
out)  was  my  best  landmark. 

'^I  care  very  little  for  that,"  said  I,  "  since  you  are 
going  with  me." 


14:8  KIDNAPPED. 

The  impudent  cheat  answered  me  in  the  Gaelic  that 
lie  had  no  English. 

"  My  fine  fellow,"  I  said,  "I  know  very  well  your 
English  comes  and  goes.  Tell  me  what  will  bring  it 
back  ?    Is  it  more  money  you  wish  ?  " 

"Five  shillings  mair,"  said  he,  ''and  hersel'  will 
bring  ve  there." 

I  reflected  awhile  and  then  offered  him  two,  which  he 
accepted  greedily,  and  insisted  on  having  in  his  hands 
at  once — "for  luck,"  as  he  said,  but  I  think  it  was 
rather  for  my  misfortune. 

The  two  shillings  carried  him  not  quite  as  many 
miles  ;  at  the  end  of  which  distance,  he  sat  down  upon 
the  wayside  and  took  off  his  brogues  from  his  feet,  like 
a  man  about  to  rest. 

I  was  now  red-hot.  "  ila  !'•'  said  I,  "  have  you  no 
more  English  ?  " 

He  said  impudently,  "  No." 

At  that  I  boiled  over  and  lifted  my  hand  to  strike 
him  ;  and  he,  drawing  a  knife  from  his  rags,  squatted 
back  and  grinned  at  me  like  a  wild-cat.  At  that,  for- 
getting everything  but  my  anger,  I  ran  in  upon  him, 
•put  aside  his  knife  with  my  left  and  struck  him  in  the 
mouth  with  my  right,  I  was  a  strong  lad  and  very 
angry,  and  he  but  a  little  man  ;  and  he  went  down  be- 
fore me  heavily.  By  good  luck,  his  knife  flew  out  of 
his  hand  as  he  fell. 

I  picked  up  both  that  and  his  brogues,  wished  him  a 


KIDNAPPED.  149 

good-morning  and  set  off  upon  my  way,  leaving  him 
barefoot  and  disarmed.  I  chuckled  to  myself  as  I  went, 
being  sure  I  was  done  with  that  rogue,  for  a  variety  of 
reasons.  First,  he  knew  he  could  have  no  more  of  my 
money  ;  next,  the  brogues  were  worth  in  that  country 
only  a  few  pence ;  and  lastly  the  knife,  which  Avas 
really  a  dagger,  it  was  against  the  law  for  him  to  carry. 

In  about  half-an-hour  of  walk,  I  overtook  a  great, 
ragged  man,  moving  jiretty  fast  but  feeling  before  him 
with  a  staff.  He  was  quite  blind,  and  told  me  he  was  a 
catechist,  which  should  have  put  me  at  my  ease.  But 
his  face  went  against  me  ;  it  seemed  dark  and  dangerous 
and  secret ;  and  presently,  as  we  began  to  go  on  along- 
side, I  saw  the  steel  butt  of  a  pistol  sticking  from  under 
the  flap  of  his  coat-pocket.  To  carry  such  a  thing 
meant  a  fine  of  fifteen  pounds  sterling  upon  a  first  of- 
fence, and  transportation  to  the  colonies  upon  a  second. 
Nor  could  I  quite  see  why  a  religious  teacher  should  go 
armed,  or  what  a  blind  man  could  be  doing  with  a  pistol. 

I  told  him  about  my  guide,  for  I  was  proud  of  what 
I  had  done,  and  my  vanity  for  once  got  the  heels  of  my 
prudence.  At  the  mention  of  the  five  shillings  he  cried 
out  so  loud  that  I  made  up  my  mind  I  should  say  noth- 
ing of  the  other  two,  and  was  glad  he  could  not  see  my 
blushes. 

"  Was  it  too  much  ?  "  I  asked,  a  little  faltering. 

**Too  much  !"  cries  he.  "Why,  I  will  guide  you  to 
Torosay  myself  for  a  dram  of  brandy.     And  give  you 


150  KIDNAPPED. 

the  groat  pleasure  of  my  company  (me  tliat  is  a  man  of 
some  learning)  in  the  bargain." 

I  said  I  did  not  see  how  a  blind  man  conld  be  a 
guide  ;  but  at  that  he  laughed  aloud,  and  said  his  stick 
was  eyes  enough  for  an  eagle. 

"In  the  Isle  of  Mull,  at  least,"  saj's  he,  "where  I 
knew  every  stone  and  heath erbush  by  mark  of  head. 
See,  now,"  he  said  striking  right  and  left,  as  if  to  make 
sure,  "down  there  a  burn  is  running  ;  and  at  the  head 
of  it  there  stands  a  bit  of  a  small  hill  with  a  stone 
cocked  upon  the  top  of  that ;  and  it's  hard  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  that  the  way  runs  by  to  Torosay  ;  and  the 
way  here,  being  for  droves,  is  plainly  trodden,  and  will 
show  grassy  through  the  heather." 

I  had  to  own  he  was  right  in  every  feature,  and  told 
my  wonder. 

"  Ha  ! "  says  he,  "  that's  nothing.  Would  ye  believe 
me  now,  that  before  the  Act  came  out,  and  when  there 
were  weepons  in  this  country,  I  could  shoot  ?  Ay, 
could  I  !  "  cries  he,  and  then  with  a  leer  :  "  If  ye  had 
such  a  thing  as  a  pistol  here  to  try  with,  I  would  show 
ye  how  it's  done." 

I  told  him  I  had  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  gave  him 
a  wider  berth.  If  he  had  known,  his  pistol  stuck  at 
that  time  quite  plainly  out  of  his  pocket,  and  I  could 
see  the  sun  twinkle  on  Ihe  steel  of  the  butt.  But  by 
the  better  luck  for  nie,  ho  knew  nothing,  thought  all 
was  covered,  and  lied  on  in  the  dark. 


KIDNAPPED.  151 

He  then  began  to  question  me  cunningly,  where  I 
came  from,  whether  I  was  rich,  whether  I  could  change 
a  five-shilling  jjiece  for  him  (which  he  declared  he  had 
at  that  moment  in  his  sporran),  and  all  the  time  he 
kept  edging  up  to  me,  and  I  avoiding  him.  AVe  were 
now  upon  a  sort  of  green  cattle-track  which  crossed  the 
hills  towards  Torosay,  and  we  kept  changing  sides  upon 
that  like  dancers  in  a  reel.  I  had  so  plainly  the  upper 
hand  that  my  spirits  rose,  and  indeed  I  took  a  pleasure 
in  this  game  of  blind-man's-buff ;  but  the  catechist 
grew  angrier  and  angrier,  and  at  last  began  to  swear  in 
Gaelic  and  to  strike  for  my  legs  with  his  staff. 

Then  I  told  him  that,  sure  enough,  I  had  a  pistol  iu 
my  pocket  as  well  as  he,  and  if  he  did  not  strike  across 
the  hill  due  south  I  would  even  blow  his  brains  out. 

He  became  at  once  very  polite  ;  and  after  trying  to 
soften  me  for  some  time,  but  quite  in  vain,  he  cursed 
me  once  more  in  the  Gaelic  and  took  himself  off.  I 
watched  him  striding  along,  through  bog  and  briar, 
tapping  with  his  stick,  until  he  turned  the  end  of  a  hill 
and  disappeared  in  the  next  hollow.  Then  I  struck  on 
again  for  Torosay,  much  better  pleased  to  be  alone  than 
to  travel  with  that  man  of  learning.  This  was  an  un- 
lucky day ;  and  these  two,  of  whom  I  had  just  rid  my- 
self, one  after  the  other,  were  the  two  worst  men  I  met 
with  in  the  Highlands. 

At  Torosay,  on  the  Sound  of  Mull  and  looking  over 
to  the  mainland  of  Morven,  there  was  an  inn  with  an 


152  KIDNAPPED. 

innkeeper,  wlio  was  a  Maclean,  it  a])peared,  of  a  very 
liigli  family  ;  for  to  keep  an  inn  is  thonglit  even  more 
genteel  in  the  Highlands  than  it  is  with  us,  perhaj)S 
as  ])artaking  of  hospitality,  or  jierhaps  because  the 
trade  is  idle  and  drunken.  He  s[)oke  good  English,  and 
finding  mo  to  be  something  of  a  scholar,  tried  me  first 
in  French,  where  he  easily  beat  me,  and  then  in  T^atin, 
in  which  T  don't  know  Avhich  of  ns  did  l»ost.  Tins 
pleasant  rivalry  put  us  at  once  upon  friendly  terms  ; 
and  I  sat  up  and  drank  punch  with  him  (or,  to  be  more 
correct,  sat  up  and  watched  him  drink  it)  until  he  was 
so  tipsy  that  he  wept  upon  my  shoulder. 

I  tried  him,  as  if  by  accident,  with  a  sight  of  Alan's 
button  ;  but  it  was  plain  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  of 
it.  Indeed,  he  bore  some  grudge  against  the  family  and 
friends  of  Ardshiel,  and  before  he  was  drunk  he  read 
me  a  lampoon,  in  very  good  Latin,  but  with  a  very  ill 
meaning,  which  he  had  made  in  elegiac  verses  upon  a 
person  of  that  house. 

AVhen  I  told  him  of  my  catechist,  he  shook  his  head, 
and  said  I  was  lucky  to  have  got  clear  off.  "  That  is  a 
very  dangerous  man,"  he  said  ;  "Duncan  Mackiegh  is 
his  name  ;  he  can  shoot  by  the  ear  at  several  yards,  and 
has  been  often  accused  of  highway  robberies,  and  once 
of  murder." 

"  The  cream  of  it  is,"  says  I,  "  that  he  called  himself 
a  catechist." 

"And  why  should  he  not?"  says  he,  "when  that  is 


KIDNAPPED.  153 

what  he  is  ?  It  was  Maclean  of  Duart  gave  it  to  him 
because  he  was  blind.  But,  perhaps,  it  was  a  peety," 
says  my  host,  ''for  he  is  always  on  the  road,  going  from 
one  place  to  another  to  hear  the  young  folk  say  their  re- 
ligion ;  and  doubtless,  that  is  a  great  temptation  to  the 
poor  man.'' 

At  last,  when  my  landlord  could  drink  no  more,  he 
showed  me  to  a  bed,  and  I  lay  down  in  very  good 
spirits  :  having  travelled  the  greater  part  of  that  big  and 
crooked  Island  of  Mull,  from  Earraid  to  Torosay,  fifty 
miles  as  the  crow  flies,  and  (with  my  wanderings)  much 
nearer  a  hundred,  in  four  days  and  with  little  fatigue. 
Indeed,  I  was  by  far  in  better  heart  and  health  of  body 
at  the  end  of  that  long  tramp  than  I  had  been  at  the 
beginning. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  LAD  WITH    TUE    SILVER  BUTTON:    ACROSS  MORVEN. 

There  is  a  regular  ferry  from  Torosay  to  Kinloclialine 
on  the  mainland.  Both  shores  of  the  Sound  are  in  the 
country  of  the  strong  clan  of  the  Macleans,  and  the 
people  that  passed  the  ferry  with  me  were  almost  all  of 
that  clan.  The  skipper  of  the  boat,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  called  Neil  Roy  Macrob  ;  and  since  Macrob  was  one 
of  the  names  of  Alan's  clansmen,  and  Alan  himself  had 
sent  me  to  that  ferry,  I  w.is  eager  to  come  to  private 
speech  of  Neil  Eoy. 

In  the  crowded  boat  this  was  of  course  impossible, 
and  the  passage  was  a  very  slow  affair.  There  was  no 
wind,  and  as  the  boat  was  wretchedly  equipped,  we 
could  pull  but  two  oars  on  one  side,  and  one  on  the 
other.  The  men  gave  way,  however,  with  a  good  will, 
the  passengers  taking  spells  to  help  them,  and  the  whole 
company  giving  the  time  in  Gaelic  boat-songs.  And 
Avhat  with  the  songs,  and  the  sea  air,  and  the  good 
nature  and  spirit  of  all  concerned,  and  the  bright 
weatlier,  the  passage  was  a  pretty  thing  to  have  seen. 

But  there  was  one  melancholy  part.  In  the  mouth 
of  Loch    Aline    we    found   a  great   sea-going    ship    at 


KIDNAPPED.  155 

anchor ;  and  this  I  supposed  at  first  to  be  one  of  the 
King's  cruisers  which  were  kept  along  that  coast,  both 
summer  and  winter,  to  prevent  communication  with  the 
French.  As  we  got  a  little  nearer,  it  became  plain  she 
was  a  ship  of  merchandise  ;  and  what  still  more  puzzled 
me,  not  only  her  decks,  but  the  sea-beach  also,  were 
quite  black  with  people,  and  skiffs  were  continually 
plying  to  and  fro  between  them.  Yet  nearer,  and  there 
began  to  come  to  our  ears  a  great  sound  of  mourning, 
the  people  on  board  and  those  on  the  shore  crying  and 
lamenting  one  to  another  so  as  to  pierce  the  heart. 

Then  I  understood  this  was  an  emigrant  ship  bound 
for  the  American  colonies. 

We  put  the  ferry-boat  alongside,  and  the  exiles  leaned 
over  the  bulwarks,  weeping  and  reaching  out  their 
hands  to  my  fellow-passengers,  among  whom  they 
counted  some  near  friends.  How  long  this  might  have 
gone  on  I  do  not  know,  for  they  seemed  to  have  no 
sense  of  time  :  but  at  last  the  captain  of  the  ship,  who 
seemed  near  beside  himself  (and  no  great  wonder)  in  the 
midst  of  this  crying  and  confusion,  came  to  the  side 
and  begged  us  to  depart. 

Tliereupon  Neil  sheered  of  ;  and  the  chief  singer  in 
our  boat  struck  into  a  melancholy  air,  which  was  pres- 
ently taken  up  both  by  the  emigrants  and  their  friends 
upon  the  beach,  so  that  it  sounded  from  all  sides  like  a 
lament  for  the  dying.  I  saw  the  tears  run  down  the 
cheeks  of  the  men  and  women  in  the  boat,  even  as  they 


156  KIDNAPPED. 

l)ent  ut.  the  oars  ;  and  the  circumstances,  and  the  music 
of  the  song  (wliicli  is  one  called  "  Lochaber  no  more") 
were  highly  affecting  even  to  myself. 

At  Kinlochaline  I  got  Neil  Roy  upon  one  side  on 
the  beach,  and  said  I  made  sure  he  was  one  of  Ai)])in's 
men. 

"  And  what  for  no  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  am  seeking  somebody,"  said  I  ;  "and  it  comes  in 
my  mind  that  you  will  have  news  of  him.  Alan  Breck 
Stewart  is  his  name."  And  very  foolishly,  instead  of 
showing  him  the  button,  I  sought  to  pass  a  shilling  in 
his  hand. 

At  this  he  drew  back.  "  I  am  very  much  affronted," 
he  said  ;  "and  this  is  not  the  way  that  one  shentleman 
should  behave  to  another  at  all.  The  man  you  ask  for 
is  in  France  ;  but  if  he  was  in  my  sporran,"  says  he, 
"and  your  belly  full  of  shillings,  I  would  not  hurt  a 
hair  upon  his  body." 

I  saw  I  had  gone  the  wrong  way  to  work,  and  with- 
out wasting  time  upon  apologies,  showed  him  (lie  but- 
ton lying  in  tiu^  hollow  of  my  palm. 

"Aweel,  aweel,"  said  Neil  ;  "and  I  think  ye  might 
have  begun  with  that  end  of  the  stick,  whatever  !  But 
if  ye  are  the  lad  with  the  silver  button,  all  is  well,  and 
I  have  the  word  to  see  that  ye  come  safe.  But  if  ye 
will  pardon  me  to  speak  plainly,"  says  he,  "there  is  a 
name  that  you  should  never  take  into  your  mouth,  and 
that  is  the  name  of  Alan  Breck  ;  and  there  is  a  thing 


KIDNAPPED.  157 

that  ye  would  never  do,  and  that  is  to  offer  your  dirty 
money  to  a  Hieland  shentleman." 

It  was  not  very  easy  to  apologise  ;  for  I  could  scarce 
tell  him  (what  was  the  truth)  that  I  had  never  dreamed 
he  would  set  up  to  be  a  gentleman  until  he  told  me  so. 
Neil  on  his  part  had  no  wish  to  prolong  his  dealings 
with  me,  only  to  fulfil  his  orders  and  be  done  with  it ; 
and  he  made  haste  to  give  me  my  route.  This  was  to 
lie  the  night  in  Kinlochaline  in  the  public  inn  ;  to  cross 
Morven  the  next  day  to  Ardgour,  and  lie  the  night  in 
the  house  of  one  John  of  the  Claymore,  who  was  warned 
that  I  might  come  ;  the  third  day,  to  be  set  across  one 
loch  at  Corran  and  another  at  Balachulish,  and  then  ask 
my  way  to  the  house  of  James  of  the  Glens,  at  Aucharn 
in  Daror  of  Apjiin.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  ferrying 
as  you  hear ;  the  sea  in  all  this  part  running  deep  into 
the  mountains  and  winding  about  their  roots.  It  makes 
the  country  strong  to  hold  and  difficult  to  travel,  but 
full  of  prodigious  wild  and  dreadful  i^rospects. 

I  had  some  other  advice  from  Neil ;  to  speak  with 
no  one  by  the  way,  to  avoid  Whigs,  Campbells,  and  the 
"red  soldiers;"  to  leave  the  road  and  lie  in  a  bush,  if 
I  saw  any  of  the  latter  coming  "  for  it  was  never  chancy 
to  meet  in  with  them ; "  and  in  brief,  to  conduct  my- 
self like  a  robber  or  a  Jacobite  agent,  as  perhaps  Neil 
thought  me. 

The  inn  at  Kinlochaline  was  the  most  beggarly,  vile 
place  that  ever  pigs  were  styed  in,  full  of  smoke,  vermin. 


158  KIDNAPPED. 

and  silent  Ilighljinders.  1  was  not  only  discontented 
with  my  lodging,  but  with  myself  for  my  mismanuge- 
ment  of  Neil,  and  thought  I  could  luirdly  be  worse  oif. 
But  very  wrongly,  as  I  was  soon  to  see  ;  for  I  had  not 
been  half-an-hour  at  the  inn  (standing  at  the  door  most 
of  the  time,  to  ease  my  eyes  from  the  peat  smoke)  when 
a  thunderstorm  came  close  by,  the  springs  broke  in  a 
little  hill  on  Avhich  the  inn  stood,  and  one  end  of  the 
house  became  a  running  water.  Places  of  public  enter- 
tainment were  bad  enough  all  over  Scotland  in  those 
days  ;  yet  it  was  a  wonder  to  myself,  when  I  had  to  go 
from  the  fireside  to  the  bed  in  which  I  slept,  wading 
over  the  shoes. 

Early  in  my  next  day's  journey,  I  overtook  a  little, 
stout,  solemn  man,  walking  very  slowly  with  his  toes 
turned  out,  sometimes  reading  in  a  book  and  sometimes 
marking  the  place  Avith  his  finger,  and  dressed  decently 
and  plainly  in  something  of  a  clerical  style. 

This  I  found  to  be  another  catechist,  but  of  a  dif- 
ferent order  from  the  blind  man  of  Mull  :  being  indeed 
one  of  those  sent  out  by  the  Edinburgh  Society  for 
Propagating  Christian  Knowledge,  to  evangelise  the 
more  savage  places  of  the  Highlands.  His  name  was 
Henderland  ;  he  spoke  with  the  broad  south-country 
tongue,  which  I  was  beginning  to  weary  for  the  sound 
of  ;  and  besides  common  countryship,  we  soon  found 
we  had  a  more  jiarticnlar  bond  of  interest.  For  my 
good  friend,  the  minister  of  Essendean,  had  translated 


KIDNAPPED.  159 

into  the  Gaelic  in  his  by-time  a  number  of  hymns  and 
pious  books,  which  Henderland  used  in  his  work  and 
held  in  great  esteem.  Indeed  it  was  one  of  these  he 
was  carrying  and  reading  when  we  met. 

We  fell  in  company  at  once,  our  ways  lying  together 
as  far  as  to  Kingairloch.  As  we  went,  he  stopped  and 
spoke  with  all  the  wayfarers  and  workers  that  we  met 
or  passed  ;  and  though  of  course  I  could  not  tell  what 
they  discoursed  about,  yet  I  judged  Mr.  Henderland 
must  be  well  liked  in  the  countryside,  for  I  observed 
many  of  them  to  bring  out  their  mulls  and  share  a  pinch 
of  snuff  with  him. 

I  told  him  as  far  in  my  affairs  as  I  judged  wise  :  as 
far,  that  is,  as  they  were  none  of  Alan's  ;  and  gave 
Balachulish  as  the  place  I  was  travelling  to,  to  meet 
a  friend  ;  for  I  thought  Aucharn,  or  even  Duror, 
would  be  too  particular  and  might  put  him  on  the 
scent. 

On  his  part,  he  told  me  much  of  his  work  and  the 
people  he  worked  among,  the  hiding  priests  and  Jacob- 
ites, the  Disarming  Act,  the  dress,  and  many  other 
curiosities  of  the  time  and  place.  He  seemed  moderate  : 
blaming  Parliament  in  several  points,  and  especially 
because  they  had  framed  the  Act  more  severely  against 
those  who  wore  the  dress  than  against  those  who  carried 
weapons. 

This  moderation  put  it  in  my  mind  to  question  him 
of  the  Red  Fox  and  the  Appin  tenants:  questions  which, 


160  KIDNAPrED. 

1  (lioiii^lil,  would  seem  natural  enough  in  the  mouth  of 
one  travelling  to  that  country. 

He  s;ii(l  it  was  a  had  husincss.  ''It's  wonderful," 
said  hO;,  "  where  the  tenants  find  the  money,  for  their 
life  is  mere  starvation.  (Ye  don't  carry  such  a  thing 
as  snuff,  do  ye,,  Mr.  Balfour  ?  No.  Well,  I'm  hetter 
wanting  it.)  But  these  tenants  (as  I  was  saying)  are 
doubtless  partly  driven  to  it.  James  Stewart  in  Duror 
(that's  him  they  call  James  of  the  (liens)  is  half- 
brother  to  Ardshiel,  the  captain  of  the  clan;  and  he  is 
a  man  much  looked  up  to,  and  drives  very  hard.  And 
then  there's  cue  they  call  Alan  Breck " 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  I,  "  what  of  him  ?  " 

"What  of  the  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth  ?" 
said  Ilenderland.  "He's  here  and  awa  ;  here  to-day 
and  gone  to-morrow  :  a  fair  heather-cat.  He  might  be 
glowering  at  the  two  of  us  out  of  yon  whin-bush,  and 
I  wouldnae  wonder  !  Ye'll  no  carry  such  a  thing  as 
snuff,  will  ye  ?  " 

I  told  him  no,  and  that  he  had  asked  the  same  thing 
more  than  once. 

"It's  highly  possible,"  said  he,  sighing.  "  But  it 
seems  strange  ye  shouldnae  carry  it.  However,  as  I 
was  saying,  this  Alan  Breck  is  a  bold,  desperate  cus- 
tomer, and  well  kent  to  be  James's  right  hand.  His 
life  is  forfeit  already  ;  he  would  boggle  at  naething ; 
and  maybe,  if  a  tenant-body  was  to  hang  back,  he 
would  get  a  dirk  m  his  wame." 


KIDNAPPED.  161 

*'  You  make  a  poor  story  of  it  all,  Mr.  Henderland," 
said  I.  "If  it  is  all  fear  upon  both  sides,  I  care  to  hear 
no  more  of  it." 

"Na,"  said  Mr.  Henderland,  *'but  there's  love  too, 
and  self-denial  that  should  put  tlie  like  of  you  and  me 
to  shame.  There's  something  fine  about  it ;  no  perhap 
Christian,  but  humanly  fine.  Even  Alan  Breck,  by  all 
that  I  hear,  is  a  chield  to  be  respected.  There's  many  a 
lying  sneck-draw  sits  close  in  kirk  in  our  own  part  of 
the  country,  and  stands  well  in  the  world's  eye,  and 
maybe  is  a  far  worse  man,  Mr.  Balfour,  than  yon  mis- 
guided shedder  of  man's  blood.  Ay,  ay,  we  might 
take  a  lesson  by  them. — Ye'll  perhaps  think  I've  been 
too  long  in  the  Hielands  ?  "  he  added,  smiling  to  me. 

I  told  him  not  at  all  ;  that  I  had  seen  much  to  ad- 
mire among  the  Highlanders  ;  and  if  he  came  to  that, 
Mr.  Campbell  himself  was  a  Highlander. 

"  Ay,"  said  he,  "  that's  true.     It's  a  fine  blood." 

"  And  what  is  the  King's  agent  about  ?"  I  asked. 

''  Colin  Campbell  ?"  says  Henderland.  "  Putting  his 
head  in  a  bees'  byke  ! " 

"He  is  to  turn  the  tenants  out  by  force,  I  hear?" 
said  I. 

"Yes,"  says  he,  "but  the  business  has  gone  back 
and  forth,  as  folk  say.  First,  James  of  the  Glens  rode 
to  Edinburgh  and  got  some  lawyer  (a  Stewart,  nae  doubt 
— they  all  hing  together  like  bats  in  a  steeple)  and  had 
the  proceedings  stayed.  And  then  Colin  Campbell  cam' 
11 


162  KIDNAPPED. 

in  again,  and  had  the  npj^cr  hand  before  the  Barons  of 
Exchequer.  And  no\v  they  tell  me  the  first  of  the 
tenants  are  to  flit  to-morrow.  It's  to  begin  at  Duror 
under  James's  very  windows,  which  doesnae  seem  wise 
by  my  ii limbic  way  of  it." 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  fight  ?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  says  Ilenderland,  "they're  disarmed — or 
supposed  to  be— for  there's  still  a  good  deal  of  cold  iron 
lying  by  in  quiet  places.  And  then  Colin  Campbell  has 
the  sogers  coming.  But  for  all  that,  if  I  was  his  lady 
wife,  I  wouldnac  be  well  pleased  till  I  got  him  home 
again.     They're  queer  customers,  the  Appin  Stewarts." 

I  asked  if  they  were  worse  than  their  neighbours. 

"No  they,"  said  he.  "And  that's  the  worst  jiart  of 
it.  For  if  Colin  Eoy  can  get  his  business  done  in  Ap- 
pin, he  has  it  all  to  begin  again  in  the  next  country, 
which  they  call  Mamore,  and  which  is  one  of  the  coun- 
tries of  the  Camerons.  He's  King's  factor  upon  both, 
and  from  both  he  has  to  drive  out  the  tenants  ;  and 
indeed,  Mr.  Balfour  (to  be  open  with  ye)  it's  my  belief 
that  if  he  escapes  the  one  lot,  he'll  get  his  death  by  the 
other." 

So  we  continued  talking  and  walking  the  great  part 
of  tiic  day ;  until  at  last,  Mr.  Ilenderland,  after  express- 
ing his  delight  in  my  company,  and  satisfaction  at 
meeting  with  a  friend  of  Mr.  Campbell's  ("whom," 
says  he,  "  I  will  make  bold  to  call  that  sweet  singer  of 
our  covenanted  Zion"),  proposed  that  I  should  make  a 


KIDNAPPED.  163 

short  stage,  and  lie  the  night  in  his  house  a  little  be- 
yond Kingairloch.  To  say  truth,  I  was  overjoyed  ;  for 
I  had  no  great  desire  for  John  of  the  Claymore,  and 
since  my  double  misadventure,  first  with  the  guide  and 
next  with  the  gentleman  skipper,  I  stood  in  some  fear 
of  any  Highland  stranger.  Accordingly,  we  shook  hands 
upon  the  bargain,  and  came  in  the  afternoon  to  a  small 
house,  standing  alone  by  the  shore  of  the  Linnhe  Loch. 
The  sun  was  already  gone  from  the  desert  mountains  of 
Ardgour  upon  the  hither  side,  but  shone  on  those  of 
Appin  on  the  farther ;  the  loch  lay  as  still  as  a  lake, 
only  the  gulls  were  crying  round  the  sides  of  it ;  and 
the  whole  place  seemed  solemn  and  uncouth. 

We  had  no  sooner  come  to  the  door  of  Mr.  Hendcr- 
land's  dwelling,  than  to  my  great  surprise  (for  I  was 
now  used  to  the  politeness  of  Highlanders)  he  burst 
rudely  past  me,  dashed  into  the  room,  caught  up  a  jar 
and  a  small  horn  spoon,  and  began  ladling  snuff  into  his 
nose  in  most  excessive  quantities.  Then  he  had  a  hearty 
fit  of  sneezing,  and  looked  round  upon  me  with  a  rather 
silly  smile. 

''It's  a  vow  I  took,"  says  he.  ''I  took  a  vow  upon 
me  that  I  would  nae  carry  it.  Doubtless  it's  a  great  pri- 
vation ;  but  when  I  think  upon  the  martyrs,  not  only  to 
the  Scottish  Covenant  but  to  other  points  of  Christian- 
ity, I  think  shame  to  mind  it." 

As  soon  as  we  had  eaten  (and  porridge  and  whey  was 
the  best  of  the  good  man's  diet)  he  took  a  grave  face  and 


16i  KIDNAPPKD. 

said  he  had  a  duty  to  perform  by  Mr.  CamplK'll,  and 
that  was  to  inquire  into  my  state  of  mind  towards  God. 
I  was  inclined  to  smile  at  him,  since  the  business  of  the 
snuff  ;  but  lie  had  not  spoken  long  before  he  brought 
the  tears  into  my  eyes.  There  are  two  things  that  men 
should  never  weary  of,  goodness  and  humility  ;  we  get 
none  too  much  of  them  in  this  rough  Avorld  and  among 
cold,  proud  people  ;  but  Mr.  Henderland  had  their  very 
speech  upon  his  tongue.  And  though  I  was  a  good  deal 
l)uffcd  up  with  my  adventures  and  with  having  come 
off,  as  the  saying  is,  with  flying  colours  ;  yet  he  soon  had 
me  on  my  knees  beside  a  simple,  poor  old  man,  and 
both  proud  and  glad  to  be  there. 

Before  we  went  to  bed  he  offered  me  sixpence  to  help 
me  on  my  way,  out  of  a  scanty  store  he  kept  in  the  turf 
wall  of  his  house  ;  at  which  excess  of  goodness  I  knew 
not  what  to  do.  But  at  last  he  was  so  earnest  with  me, 
that  I  thought  it  the  more  mannerly  part  to  let  him 
have  his  way,  and  so  left  him  poorer  than  myself. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE    DEATH   OF   THE   RED    FOX. 
1 

The  next  day  Mr.  Heiulerland  found  for  me  a  man 
who  had  a  boat  of  his  own  and  was  to  cross  the  Linnhe 
Loch  that  afternoon  into  Appin,  fishing.  Him  he  pre- 
vailed on  to  take  me,  for  he  was  one  of  his  flock ;  and 
in  this  way  I  saved  a  long  day's  travel  and  the  price  of 
the  two  public  ferries  I  must  otherwise  have  passed. 

It  was  near  noon  before  we  set  out ;  a  dark  day,  with 
clouds,  and  the  sun  shining  upon  little  patches.  The 
sea  was  here  very  deep  and  still,  and  had  scarce  a  wave 
upon  it ;  so  that  I  must  put  the  water  to  my  lips  before 
I  could  believe  it  to  be  truly  salt.  The  mountains  on 
either  side  were  high,  rough,  and  barren,  very  black  and 
gloomy  in  the  shadow  of  the  clouds,  but  all  silver-laced 
with  little  watercourses  where  the  sun  shone  upon  them. 
It  seemed  a  hard  country,  this  of  Appin,  for  people  to 
care  as  much  about  as  Alan  did. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  mention.  A  little  after 
we  had  started,  the  sun  shone  upon  a  little  moving 
clump  of  scarlet  close  in  along  the  waterside  to  the 
north.     It  was  much  of  the  same  red  as  soldiers'  coats  ; 


166  KIDNAPPED. 

every  now  uiul  then,  too,  tlicre  came  little  sparks  and 
lightnings,  as  thongh  the  sun  had  struck  upon  bright 
steel. 

I  asked  my  boatman  what  it  should  be  ;  and  he 
answered  he  supposed  it  was  some  of  the  red  soldiers 
coming  from  Fort  William  into  Appin,  against  the  poor 
tenantry  of  the  country.  Well,  it  was  a  sad  sight  to 
me  ;  and  whether  it  was  because  of  my  thoughts  of 
Alan,  or  from  something  prophetic  in  my  bosom, 
although  this  was  but  the  second  time  I  had  seen  King 
George's  troops,  I  had  no  good  will  to  them. 

At  last  we  came  so  near  the  point  of  land  at  the  enter- 
ing in  of  Loch  Leven  that  I  begged  to  be  set  on  shore. 
My  boatman  (who  was  an  honest  fellow  and  mindful  of 
his  promise  to  the  catechist)  would  fain  have  carried  me 
on  to  Balachulish ;  but  as  this  was  to  take  me  farther 
from  my  secret  destination,  I  insisted,  and  was  set  on 
shore  at  last  under  the  wood  of  Lettermore  (or  Letter- 
vore,  for  T  have  heard  it  both  ways)  in  Alan's  country 
of  Appin. 

Tliis  was  a  wood  of  birches,  growing  on  a  steep, 
craggy  side  of  a  mountain  that  overhung  the  loch.  It 
had  many  openings  and  ferny  dells  ;  and  a  road  or 
bridle  track  ran  north  and  south  through  the  midst  of 
it,  by  the  edge  of  which,  where  was  a  spring,  I  sat 
down  to  eat  some  oat-bread  of  Mr.  Ilenderland's  and 
think  upon  my  situation. 

Here  T  was  not  only  troubled  by  a  cloud  of  stinging 


KIDNAPPED,  167 

midges,  but  far  more  by  the  doubts  of  my  mind.  What 
I  ouglit  to  do,  why  I  was  going  to  join  myself  with  an 
outlaw  and  a  would-be  murderer  like  Alan,  whether  I 
should  not  be  acting  more  like  a  man  of  sense  to  tramp 
back  to  the  south  country  direct,  by  my  own  guidance 
and  at  my  own  charges,  and  what  Mr.  Campbell  or 
even  Mr.  Henderland  would  think  of  me  if  they  should 
ever  learn  my  folly  and  presumption  :  these  were  the 
doubts  that  now  began  to  come  in  on  me  stronger  than 
ever. 

As  I  was  so  sitting  and  thinking,  a  sound  of  men 
and  horses  came  to  me  through  the  wood  ;  and  presently 
after,  at  a  turning  of  the  road,  I  saw  four  travellers  come 
into  view.  The  way  was  in  this  part  so  rough  and 
narrow  that  they  came  single  and  led  their  horses  by 
the  reins.  The  first  was  a  great,  red-headed  gentleman, 
of  an  imperious  and  flushed  face,  who  carried  his  hat  in 
his  hand  and  fanned  himself,  for  he  was  in  a  breathing 
heat.  The  second,  by  his  decent  black  garb  and  white 
wig,  I  correctly  took  to  be  a  lawyer.  The  third  was  a 
servant,  and  wore  some  part  of  his  clothes  in  tartan, 
which  showed  that  his  master  was  of  a  Highland  family, 
and  either  an  outlaw  or  else  in  singular  good  odour  with 
the  Government,  since  the  v/earing  of  tartan  was  against 
the  Act.  If  I  had  been  better  versed  in  these  things,  I 
would  have  known  the  tartan  to  be  of  the  Argyle  (or 
Campbell)  colours.  This  servant  had  a  good-sized  port- 
manteau strapped  on  his  horse,  and  a  net  of  lemons  (to 


168  KIDKAPPED. 

brew  punch  with)  hanging  at  the  saddle-how  ;  as  was 
often  enoiigli  the  custom  with  hixurious  travellers  in 
that  part  of  the  country. 

As  for  the  fourth,  who  hronght  up  the  tail,  I  had 
seen  his  like  before,  and  knew  him  at  once  to  be  a 
sheriff's  officer, 

I  had  no  sooner  seen  these  people  coming  than  I 
made  up  my  mind  (for  no  reason  that  I  can  tell)  to  go 
through  with  my  adventure  ;  and  when  the  first  came 
alongside  of  me,  I  rose  up  from  the  bracken  and  asked 
him  the  way  to  Aucharn. 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  me,  as  I  thought,  a  little 
oddly;  and  then,  turning  to  the  lawyer,  ''Mungo,"  said 
he,  "  there's  many  a  man  would  think  this  more  of  a 
warning  than  two  pyats.  Here  am  I  on  my  road  to 
Duror  on  the  Job  ye  ken  ;  and  here  is  a  young  lad  starts 
up  out  of  the  bracken,  and  sjjeers  if  I  am  on  the  way  to 
Aucharn." 

^'Glenure,"  said  the  other,  ''this  is  an  ill  subject  for 
jesting." 

These  two  had  now  drawn  close  uj)  and  were  gazing 
at  me,  while  the  two  followers  had  halted  about  a  stone- 
cast  in  the  rear. 

"And  what  seek  ye  in  Aucharn  ?"  said  Colin  Roy 
Campbell  of  Glenure  ;  him  they  called  the  Red  Fox  ; 
for  he  it  was  that  I  had  stopped. 

"  The  man  that  lives  there,"  said  I. 

"James  of  the  Glens?"  says  Glenure,  musingly;  and 


KIDNAPPED.  169 

then  to  the  lawyer  :  "  Is  he  gathering  his  people,  think 
ye?" 

''Anyway,"  says  the  lawyer,  "we  shall  do  better  to 
bide  where  we  are,  and  let  the  soldiers  rally  us." 

*'If  you  are  concerned  for  me,"  said  I,  "I  am 
neither  of  his  people  nor  yours,  but  an  honest  subject 
of  King  George,  owing  no  man  and  fearing  no  man." 

"Why,  very  well  said,"  replies  the  Factor.  "But 
if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  ask,  what  does  this  honest 
man  so  far  from  his  country  ?  and  why  does  he  come 
seeking  the  brother  of  Ardshiel  ?  I  have  power  here,  I 
must  tell  you.  I  am  King's  Factor  upon  several  of 
these  estates,  and  have  twelve  files  of  soldiers  at  my 
back." 

"I  have  h^ard  a  waif  word  in  the  country,"  said  I, 
a  little  nettled,  "that  you  were  a  hard  man  to  drive." 

He  still  kept  looking  at  me,  as  if  in  doubt. 

"Well,"  said  he,  at  last,  "your  tongue  is  bold  ;  but 
I  am  no  unfriend  to  plainness.  If  yc  had  asked  me  the 
way  to  the  door  of  James  Stewart  on  any  other  day  but 
this,  I  would  have  set  ye  right  and  bidden  ye  God 
speed.  But  to-day— eh,  Mungo  ? "  And  he  turned 
again  to  look  at  the  lawyer. 

But  Just  as  he  turned  there  came  the  shot  of  a  fire- 
lock from  higher  up  the  hill;  and  with  the  very  sound 
of  it  Glenure  fell  upon  the  road. 

"  0,  I  am  dead  !"  he  cried,  several  times  over. 

The  lawyer  had  caught  him  up  and  held  him  in  his 


170  KIDNAPPED. 

arms,  the  servant  standing  over  and  clasping  liis  hands. 
And  now  the  wounded  man  looked  from  one  to  another 
with  seared  eyes,  and  there  was  a  change  in  his  voice 
that  went  to  the  heart. 

''Take  care  of  yourselves,"  says  he.     "  I  am  dead." 

He  tried  to  open  his  clothes  as  if  to  look  for  the 
wound,  but  his  fingers  slipped  on  the  buttons.  With 
that  he  gave  a  great  sigh,  his  head  rolled  on  his 
shoulder,  and  he  passed  away. 

The  lawyer  said  never  a  word,  but  liis  face  was  as 
sharp  as  a  pen  and  as  white  as  the  dead  man's  ;  the 
servant  broke  out  into  a  great  noise  of  crying  and  weep- 
ing, like  a  child  ;  and  I,  on  my  side,  stood  staring  at 
them  in  a  kind  of  horror.  The  sheriff's  officer  had  run 
back  at  the  first  sound  of  the  shot,  to  hasten  the  coming 
of  the  soldiers. 

At  last  the  lawyer  laid  down  the  dead  man  in  his 
blood  upon  the  road,  and  got  to  his  own  feet  with  a 
kind  of  stagger. 

I  believe  it  was  his  movement  that  brought  me  to  my 
seases ;  for  he  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  I  began  to 
scramble  up  the  hill,  crying  out,  "  The  murderer  !  the 
murderer." 

So  little  a  time  had  elapsed,  tliat  when  I  got  to  the 
top  of  the  first  steepness,  and  could  see  some  part  of  the 
open  mountain,  the  murderer  was  still  moving  away  at 
no  great  distance.  He  was  a  big  man,  in  a  black  coat, 
with  metal  buttons,  and  carried  a  long  fowling-piece. 


KIDNAPPED.  171 

''  Here  !  "  I  cried.     ''  I  see  him  ! " 

At  that  the  murderer  gave  a  little,  quick  look  over 
his  shoulder,  and  began  to  run.  The  next  moment  he 
was  lost  in  a  fringe  of  birches  ;  then  he  came  out  again 
on  the  upper  side,  where  I  could  see  him  climbing  like 
a  jackanapes,  for  that  part  was  again  very  steep ;  and 
then  he  dipped  behind  a  shoulder,  and  I  saw  him  no 
more. 

All  this  time  I  had  been  running  on  mj  side,  and  had 
got  a  good  way  up,  when  a  voice  cried  upon  me  to  stand. 

I  was  at  the  edge  of  the  upper  wood,  and  so  now, 
when  I  halted  and  looked  back,  I  saw  all  the  open  part 
of  the  hill  below  me.  The  lawyer  and  the  sheriff's  oflBcer 
were  standing  just  above  the  road,  crying  and  waving 
on  me  to  come  back ;  and  on  their  left,  the  red-coats, 
musket  in  hand,  were  beginning  to  struggle  singly  out 
of  the  lower  wood. 

"  Why  should  I  come  back  ?  "  I  cried.  "  Come  you 
on  ! " 

"Ten  pounds  if  ye  take  that  lad  ! "  cried  the  lawyer. 
"  He's  an  accomplice.  He  was  posted  here  to  hold  us 
in  talk." 

At  that  word  (which  I  could  hear  quite  plainly, 
though  it  was  to  the  soldiers  and  not  to  me  that  he  was 
crying  it)  my  heart  came  in  my  mouth  with  quite  a  new 
kind  of  terror.  Indeed,  it  is  one  thing  to  stand  the 
danger  of  your  life,  and  quite  another  to  run  the  peril 
of  both  life  and  character.     The   thing,   besides,  had 


172  KIDNAPPED, 

come  so  suddenly,  like  thunder  out  of  a  clear  sky,  that 
I  was  all  amazed  and  helpless. 

The  soldiers  began  to  spread,  some  of  them  to  run, 
and  others  to  put  up  their  pieces  and  cover  me  ;  and  still 
I  stood. 

*' Jouk*  in  here  among  tlie  trees,"  said  a  voice,  close 
by. 

Indeed,  I  scarce  knew  what  I  was  doing,  but  I 
obeyed ;  and  as  I  did  so,  I  heard  the  firelocks  bang  and 
the  balls  whistle  in  the  birches. 

Just  inside  the  shelter  of  the  trees  I  found  Alan 
Breck  standing,  with  a  fishing-rod.  He  gave  me  no 
salutation  ;  indeed  it  was  210  time  for  civilities ;  only 
"  Come  ! "  says  lie,  and  set  off  running  along  the  side  of 
the  mountain  towards  Balachulish  ;  and  I,  like  a  sheep, 
to  follow  him. 

Now  we  ran  among  the  birches ;  now  stooping  be- 
hind low  humps  upon  the  mountain  side;  now  crawling 
on  all-fours  among  the  heather.  The  pace  was  deadly  ; 
my  heart  seemed  bursting  against  my  ribs  ;  and  I  had 
neither  time  to  think  nor  breath  to  speak  with.  Only  I 
remember  seeing  with  wonder,  that  Alan  every  now  and 
then  would  straighten  himself  to  his  full  height  and 
look  back  ;  and  every  time  he  did  so,  there  came  a  great 
far-away  cheering  and  crying  of  the  soldiers. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  later,  Alan  stopped,  clapped  down 
flat  in  the  heather,  and  turned  to  me. 


KIDNAPPED.  173 

"Now,"  said  he,  "  it's  earnest.  Do  as  I  do  for  your 
life." 

And  at  the  same  speed,  but  now  with  infinitely  more 
precaution,  we  traced  back  again  across  the  mountain 
side  by  the  same  way  that  we  had  come,  only  perhaps 
higher  ;  till  at  last  Alan  threw  himself  down  in  the 
upper  wood  of  Lettermore,  where  I  had  found  him  at  the 
first,  and  lay,  with  his  face  in  the  bracken,  panting  like 
a  dog. 

My.  own  sides  so  ached,  my  head  so  swam,  my  tongue 
so  hung  out  of  my  mouth  with  heat  and  dryness,  that  I 
lay  beside  him  like  one  dead. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

I   TALK   WITH    ALAN"   IN   THE   WOOD    OF   LETTERMORE. 

Alax  was  the  first  to  come  round.  He  rose,  went  to 
the  border  of  the  wood,  peered  out  a  little,  and  then 
returned  and  sat  down. 

''Well,"  said  he,  "yon  was  a  hot  burst,  David." 

I  said  nothing,  nor  so  much  as  lifted  my  face.  I  had 
seen  murder  done,  and  a  great,  ruddy,  jovial  gentleman 
struck  out  of  life  in  a  moment;  the  pity  of  that  sight 
was  still  sore  within  mc,  and  yet  that  was  but  a  part  of 
my  concern.  Here  was  murder  done  upon  the  man 
Alan  hated;  here  was  Alan  skulking  in  the  trees  and 
running  from  the  troops  ;  and  whether  his  was  the  hand 
that  fired  or  only  the  head  that  ordered,  signified  but 
little.  By  my  way  of  it,  my  only  friend  in  that  wild 
country  was  blood-guilty  in  the  first  degree ;  I  held  him 
in  horror ;  I  could  not  look  upon  his  face  ;  I  would 
have  rather  lain  alone  in  the  rain  on  my  cold  isle,  than 
in  that  warm  wood,  beside  a  murderer. 

''Are  ye  still  wearied  ?"  he  asked  again. 

"No,"  said  I,  still  with  my  face  in  the  bracken; 
"no,  I  am  not  wearied  now,  and  I  can  speak.  You  and 
me  must  twine,"  *  I  said.     "  I  liked  you  very  well,  Alan; 

♦Part. 


KIDNAPPED.  175 

but  your  ways  are  not  mine,  and  they're  not  God's  ;  and 
the  short  and  the  long  of  it  is  just  that  we  must  twine." 

"I  will  hardly  twine  from  ye,  David,  without  some 
kind  of  reason  for  the  same,"  said  Alan,  mighty  gravely. 
"If  ye  keu  anything  against  my  reputation,  it's  the 
least  thing  that  ye  should  do,  for  old  acquaintance  sake, 
to  let  me  hear  the  name  of  it ;  and  if  ye  have  only  taken 
a  distaste  to  my  society,  it  will  be  proper  for  me  to 
judge  if  I'm  insulted." 

*'  Alan,"  said  I,  "what  is  the  sense  of  this  ?  Ye  ken 
very  well  yon  Campbell-man  lies  in  his  blood  upon  the 
road." 

He  was  silent  for  a  little  ;  then  says  he,  *'  Did  ever  ye 
hear  tell  of  the  story  of  the  Man  and  the  Good  Peo- 
ple ?  " — by  which  he  meant  the  fairies. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  nor  do  I  want  to  hear  it." 

"  With  your  permission,  Mr.  Balfour,  I  will  tell  it 
you,  whatever,"  says  Alan.  "  The  man,  ye  should  ken, 
was  cast  upon  a  rock  in  the  sea,  where  it  appears  the 
Good  People  were  in  use  to  come  and  rest  as  they  went 
through  to  Ireland.  The  name  of  this  rock  is  called  the 
Skerryvore,  and  it's  not  far  from  where  we  suffered  ship- 
wreck. Well,  it  seems  the  man  cried  so  sore,  if  he 
could  just  see  his  little  bairn  before  he  died !  that  at 
last  the  king  of  the  Good  People  took  peety  upon  him, 
and  sent  one  flying  that  brought  back  the  bairn  in  a 
poke*  and  laid  it  down  beside  the  man  where  he  lay 

*Bag. 


176  KIDNAPPED. 

sleeping.  So  when  the  man  woke,  there  was  a  poke 
beside  him  and  something  into  the  inside  of  it  that 
moved.  Well,  it  seems  he  was  one  of  these  gentry 
that  think  aye  the  worst  of  things  ;  and  for  greater 
security,  he  stuck  his  dirk  throughout  that  poke  before 
he  opened  it,  and  there  was  his  bairn  dead.  I  am 
thinking  to  myself,  Mr.  Balfour,  that  you  and  the  man 
are  very  much  alike." 

"Do  you  mean  you  had  no  hand  in  it  ?"  cried  I, 
sitting  up. 

"  I  will  tell  you  first  of  all,  Mr.  Balfour  of  Shaws, 
as  one  friend  to  another,"  said  Alan,  "that  if  I  were 
going  to  kill  a  gentleman,  it  would  not  be  in  my  own 
country,  to  bring  trouble  on  my  clan  ;  and  I  would  not 
go  wanting  sword  and  gun,  and  with  a  long  fishing-rod 
upon  my  back." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  that's  true  !  " 

"  And  now,"  continued  Alan,  taking  out  his  dirk  and 
laying  his  hand  upon  it  in  a  certain  manner,  "  I  swear 
upon  the  Holy  Iron  I  had  neither  art  nor  part,  act  nor 
thought  in  it." 

"  I  thank  God  for  that  !"  cried  I,  and  offered  him  my 
hand. 

He  did  not  appear  to  see  it. 

"And  here  is  a  groat  deal  of  work  about  a  Camp- 
bell ! "  said  he.     "  They  are  not  so  scarce,  that  I  ken  !  " 

"At  least,"  said  I,  "you  cannot  Justly  blame  me,  for 
you  know  very  well  what  you  told  me  in  the  brig.     But 


KIDNAPPED.  177 

the  temptation  and  the  act  are  different,  I  thank  God 
again  for  that.  We  may  all  be  temj^ted  ;  but  to  take  a 
life  in  cold  blood,  Alan  !"  And  I  could  say  no  more 
for  the  moment.  "  And  do  you  know  who  did  it  ?  "  I 
added.     '"Do  you  know  that  man  in  the  black  coat  ?  " 

"  I  have  nae  clear  mind  about  his  coat,"  said  Alan, 
cunningly ;  "  but  it  sticks  in  my  head  that  it  was 
blue." 

*'  Blue  or  black,  did  ye  know  him  ?"  said  I. 

"  I  couldnae  just  conscientiously  swear  to  him,"  says 
Alan.  "He  gaed  very  close  by  me,  to  be  sure,  but  it's 
a  strange  thing  that  I  should  Just  have  been  tying  my 
brogues." 

"  Can  you  swear  that  you  don't  know  him,  Alan  ?  " 
I  cried,  half  angered,  half  in  a  mind  to  laugh  at  his 
evasions. 

'"Not  5'et,"  says  he  ;  "but  I've  a  grand  memory  for 
forgetting,  David." 

"  And  yet  there  was  one  thing  I  saw  clearly,"  said  I  ; 
"  and  that  was,  that  you  exposed  yourself  and  me  to 
draw  the  soldiers." 

"It's  very  likely,"  said  Alan;  "and  so  would  any 
gentleman.  You  and  me  were  innocent  of  that  trans- 
action." 

"  The  better  reason,  since  we  were  falsely  suspected, 

that  we    should    get   clear,"  I  cried.     "  The   innocent 

should  surely  come  before  the  guilty," 

"  Why,  David,"  said  he,  "  the  innocent  have  aye  a 
13 


178  KIDNAPPED. 

chance  to  got  assoiled  in  court ;  but  for  the  lad  that 
shot  the  bullet,  I  think  the  best  i)lace  for  him  will  be 
the  heather.  Them  that  havenae  dipped  their  hands  in 
any  little  difficulty,  should  be  very  mindful  of  the  case 
of  them  that  have.  And  that  is  the  good  Christianity. 
For  if  it  was  the  other  way  round  about,  and  the  lad 
whom  I  couldnae  just  clearly  see  had  been  in  our  shoes, 
and  we  in  his  (as  might  very  well  have  been),  I  think  we 
would  be  a  good  deal  obliged  to  him  oursel's  if  he 
would  draw  the  soldiers." 

When  it  came  to  this,  I  gave  Alan  up.  But  he 
looked  so  innocent  all  the  time,  and  was  in  such  clear 
good  faith  in  what  he  said,  and  so  ready  to  sacrifice 
himself  for  what  he  deemed  his  duty,  that  my  mouth 
was  closed.  Mr.  Ilenderland's  words  came  back  to  me  : 
that  Ave  ourselves  might  take  a  lesson  by  these  wild 
Highlanders.  Well,  here  I  had  taken  mine.  Alan's 
morals  were  all  tail-first ;  but  he  was  ready  to  give  his 
life  for  them,  such  as  they  were. 

"Alan,"  said  I,  'Til  not  say  it's  the  good  Chris- 
tianity as  I  understand  it,  but  it's  good  enough.  And 
here  I  offer  ye  my  hand  for  the  second  time." 

Whereupon  he  gave  me  both  of  his,  saying  surely  I 
had  cast  a  spell  upon  him,  for  lie  could  forgive  me  any- 
thing. Then  he  grew  very  grave,  and  said  we  had  not 
much  time  to  throw  away,  but  must  both  flee  that 
country  :  he,  because  he  was  a  deserter,  and  the  whole  of 
Apjiin  would  now  be  searched  like  a  chamber,  and  every 


KIDNAPPED.  179 

one  obliged  to  give  a  good  account  of  himself  ;    and  I, 
because  I  was  certainly  involved  in  tlie  murder. 

*'  0  !  "  says    I,  willing  to   give   him    a  little  lesson, 
*'  I  have  no  fear  of  the  justice  of  my  country." 

"As  if  this  was  your  country!"  said  he.  "Or  as 
if  ye  would  be  tried  here,  in  a  country  of  Stewarts  ! " 

"  It's  all  Scotland,"  said  I. 

"Man,  I  whiles  wonder  at  ye,"  said  Alan.  "This 
is  a  Campbell  that's  been  killed.  Well,  it'll  be  tried  in 
Inverara,  the  Campbell's  head  place  ;  with  fifteen  Camp- 
bells in  the  Jury-box,  and  the  biggest  Campbell  of  all 
(and  that's  the  Duke)  sitting  cocking  on  the  bench. 
Justice,  David  ?  The  same  justice,  by  all  the  world,  as 
Glenure  found  a  while  ago  at  the  roadside." 

This  frighted  me  a  little,  I  confess,  and  would 
have  frighted  me  more  if  I  had  known  how  nearly 
exact  were  Alan's  predictions  ;  indeed  it  was  but  in  one 
point  that  he  exaggerated,  there  being  but  eleven  Camp- 
bells on  the  jury  ;  though  as  the  other  four  were  equally 
in  the  Duke's  dependance,  it  mattered  less  than  might 
appear.  Still,  I  cried  out  that  he  was  unjust  to  the 
Duke  of  Argyle,  who  (for  all  he  was  a  Whig)  was  yet  a 
wise  and  honest  nobleman. 

"Hoot!"  said  Alan,  "the  man's  a  Whig,  nae 
doubt ;  but  I  would  never  deny  he  was  a  good  chieftain 
to  his  clan.  And  what  would  the  clan  think  if  there 
was  a  Campbell  shot,  and  naebody  hanged,  and  their 
own   chief   the   Justice   General?      But  I   have   often 


180  KIDNAPPED. 

observed,"  says  Altin,  "that  you  Low  country  bodies 
have  uo  clear  idea  of  Avhat's  right  and  wrong," 

At  this  I  did  at  last  laugh  out  aloud  ;  when  to 
my  surprise,  Alan  joined  in  and  laughed  as  merrily  as 
myself. 

*'Na,  na,"  said  he,  "we're  in  the  Ilielands,  David; 
and  when  I  tell  ye  to  run,  take  my  word  and  run.  Nae 
doubt  it's  a  hard  thing  to  skulk  and  starve  in  the 
heather,  but  it's  liarder  yet  to  lie  shackled  in  a  red- 
coat prison." 

I  asked  him  whither  we  should  flee  ;  and  as  he  told 
mo  "  to  the  Lowlands,"  I  was  a  little  better  inclined  to 
go  with  him  ;  for  indeed  I  was  growing  impatient  to  get 
back  and  have  the  upper  hand  of  my  uncle.  Besides 
Alan  made  so  sure  there  would  be  no  question  of  justice 
in  the  matter,  that  I  began  to  be  afraid  he  might  be 
right.  Of  all  deaths,  I  would  truly  like  least  to  die 
by  the  gallows  ;  and  the  picture  of  that  uncanny  instru- 
ment came  into  my  head  with  extraordinaiy  clearness 
(as  I  had  once  seen  it  engraved  at  the  top  of  a  ped- 
lar's ballad)  and  took  away  my  appetite  for  courts  of 
justice. 

"  I'll  chance  it,  Alan,"  said  I.     "  I'll  go  with  you." 

"But  mind  you,"  said  Alan,  "it's  no  small  thing. 
Ye  maun  lie  bare  and  hard,  and  brook  many  an  empty 
belly.  Your  bed  shall  be  the  moorcock's,  and  your  life 
shall  be  like  the  hunted  deer's,  and  ye  shall  sleep  with 
your  hand  upon  your  weapon.     Ay,  man,  ye  shall  taigle 


KIDNAPPED.  181 

many  a  weary  foot,  or  we  get  clear  !  I  tell  ye  this  at 
the  start,  for  its  a  life  that  I  ken  well.  But  if  ye  ask 
what  other  chance  ye  have,  I  answer  :  Nane.  Either 
take  to  the  heather  with  me,  or  else  hang." 

**  And  that's  a  choice  very  easily  made,"  said  I ;  and 
we  shook  hands  upon  it. 

"  And  now  let's  take  another  keek  at  the  red-coats," 
says  Alan,  and  he  led  me  to  the  north-eastern  fringe  of 
the  wood. 

Looking  out  between  the  trees,  we  could  see  a  great 
side  of  mountain,  running  down  exceeding  steep  into 
the  waters  of  the  loch.  It  was  a  rough  part,  all  hanging 
stone,  and  heather,  and  bit  scrags  of  birchwood ;  and 
away  at  the  far  end  towards  Balachulish,  little  wee  red 
soldiers  were  dipping  up  and  down  over  hill  and  howe, 
and  growing  smaller  every  minute.  There  was  no 
cheering  now,  for  I  think  they  had  other  uses  for  what 
breath  was  left  them  ;  but  they  still  stuck  to  the  trail, 
and  doubtless  thought  that  we  were  close  in  front  of 
them. 

Alan  watched  them,  smiling  to  himself. 

"Ay,"  said  he,  "they'll  be  gey  weary  before  they've 
got  to  the  end  of  that  employ  !  And  so  you  and  me, 
David,  can  sit  down  and  eat  a  bite,  and  breathe  a  bit 
longer,  and  take  a  dram  from  my  bottle.  Then  we'll 
strike  for  Aucharn,  the  house  of  my  kinsman,  James  of 
the  Glens,  where  I  must  get  my  clothes,  and  my  arms, 
and  money  to  carry  us  along ;  and  then,  David,  we'll 


182  KIDNAPPED. 

cry  '  Forth,  Fortune  ! '  and  take  a  cast  among  the 
heather. " 

So  we  sat  again  and  ate  and  drank,  in  a  place  whence 
we  conld  see  the  sun  going  down  into  a  field  of  great, 
wild  and  houseless  mountains,  such  as  I  was  now  con- 
demned to  wander  in  with  my  companion.  Partly  as 
we  so  sat,  and  partly  afterwards,  on  the  way  to  Au- 
charn,  each  of  us  narrated  his  adventures ;  and  I  shall 
here  set  down  so  much  of  Alan's  as  seems  either  curious 
or  needful. 

It  appears  he  ran  to  the  bulwarks  as  soon  as  the  wave 
was  passed  ;  saw  me,  and  lost  me,  and  saw  me  again,  as 
I  tumbled  in  the  roost ;  and  at  last  had  one  glimpse 
of  me  clinging  on  the  yard.  It  was  this  that  put  him  in 
some  hope  I  would  maybe  get  to  land  after  all,  and  made 
him  leave  these  clues  and  messages  which  had  brought 
me  (for  my  sins)  to  that  unlucky  country  of  Appin. 

In  the  meanwhile,  those  still  on  the  brig  had  got  the 
skiff  launched,  and  one  or  two  were  on  board  of  her 
already,  when  there  came  a  second  wave  greater  tlian 
the  first,  and  heaved  the  brig  out  of  her  place,  and 
would  certainly  have  sent  her  to  the  bottom,  had  she 
not  struck  and  caught  on  some  projection  of  the  reef. 
When  she  had  struck  first,  it  had  been  bows-on,  so  that 
the  stern  had  hitherto  been  lowest.  But  now  her  stem 
was  thrown  in  the  air,  and  the  bows  plunged  under  the 
sea ;  and  with  that,  tlie  water  began  to  pour  into  the 
fore-scuttle  like  the  pouring  of  a  mill-dam. 


KIDNAPPED.  183 

It  took  the  colour  out  of  Alan's  face,  even  to  tell  what 
followed.  For  there  were  still  two  men  lying  impotent 
in  their  bunks  ;  and  these,  seeing  the  water  pour  in  and 
thinking  the  ship  had  foundered,  begun  to  cry  out 
aloud,  and  that  with  such  harrowing  cries  that  all  who 
were  on  deck  tumbled  one  after  another  into  the  skiff 
and  fell  to  their  oars.  They  were  not  two  hundred 
yards  away,  when  there  came  a  third  great  sea  ;  and  at 
that  the  brig  lifted  clean  over  the  reef ;  her  canvas 
filled  for  a  moment,  and  she  seemed  to  sail  in  chase  of 
them,  but  settling  all  the  while  ;  and  presently  she 
drew  down  and  down,  as  if  a  hand  was  drawing  her ; 
and  the  sea  closed  over  the  Covenant  of  Dysart. 

Never  a  word  they  spoke  as  they  pulled  ashore,  being 
stunned  with  the  horror  of  that  screaming;  but  they 
had  scarce  set  foot  upon  the  beach  when  Hoseason 
woke  up,  as  if  out  of  a  muse,  and  bade  them  lay  hands 
upon  Alan.  They  hung  back  indeed,  having  little  taste 
for  the  employment  ;  but  Hoseason  was  like  a  fiend  ; 
crying  that  Alan  was  alone,  that  he  had  a  great  sum 
about  him,  that  he  had  been  the  means  of  losing  the 
brig  and  drowning  all  their  comrades,  and  that  here  was 
both  revenge  and  wealth  upon  a  single  cast.  It  was 
seven  against  one ;  in  that  part  of  the  shore  there  was 
no  rock  that  Alan  could  set  his  back  to  ;  and  the  sailors 
began  to  spread  out  and  come  behind  him. 

"And  then,"  said  Alan,  "  the  little  man  with  the  red 
head — I  havenae  mind  of  the  name  that  he  is  called." 


184  KIDNAPPED. 

"Riach,"saidl. 

"Ay,"  said  Alan,  "  Riach  !  Well,  it  was  him  that 
took  up  the  clubs  for  me,  asked  the  men  if  they  wereuae 
feared  of  a  judgment,  and  says  he,  '  Dod,  I'll  put  my 
back  to  the  Hieland man's  mysel'.'  That's  none  such 
an  entirely  bad  little  man,  yon  little  man  with  the  red 
head,''  said  Alan.     ^^Ile  has  some  spunks  of  decency." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "he  was  kind  to  me  in  liis  way." 

"And  so  he  was  to  Alan,"  said  he;  "and  by  my 
troth,  I  found  his  Avay  a  very  good  one  !  But  ye  see, 
David,  the  loss  of  the  ship  and  the  cries  of  these  poor 
lads  sat  very  ill  upon  the  man  ;  and  I'm  thinking  that 
would  be  the  cause  of  it." 

"Well,  I  would  think  so,''  said  I  ;  "for  he  was  as 
keen  as  any  of  the  rest  at  the  beginning.  But  how  did 
Hoseason  take  it  ?  " 

"  It  sticks  in  my  mind  that  he  would  take  it  very 
ill,"  says  Alan.  "But  the  little  man  cried  to  me  to 
run,  and  indeed  I  thought  it  was  a  good  observe,  and 
ran.  The  last  that  I  saw  they  were  all  in  a  knot  upon 
the  beach,  like  folk  that  were  not  agi'eeing  very  well 
together." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  said  I. 

"Well,  the  fists  were  going,"  said  Alan;  *' and  I 
saw  one  man  go  down  like  a  pair  of  breeks.  But  I 
thought  it  would  be  better  no  to  wait.  Ye  see  there's  a 
strip  of  Campbells  in  that  end  of  Mull,  which  is  no  good 
company  for  a  gentleman  like  me.    If  ii  hadnae  been  for 


KIDNAPPED.  185 

that  I  would  haye  waited  and  looked  for  ye  mysel',  let 
alone  giving  a  hand  to  the  little  man."  (It  was  droll 
how  Alan  dwelt  on  Mr.  Kiach's  stature,  for,  to  say  the 
truth,  the  one  was  not  much  smaller  than  the  other.) 
*'  So,"  says  he,  continuing,  "  I  set  my  best  foot  forward, 
and  whenever  I  met  in  with  any  one  I  cried  out  there 
was  a  wreck  ashore.  Man,  they  didnae  stop  to  fash 
with  me  !  Ye  should  have  seen  them  linking  for  the 
beach  !  And  when  they  got  there  they  found  they  had 
had  the  pleasure  of  a  run,  which  is  aye  good  for  a 
Campbell.  I'm  thinking  it  was  a  judgment  on  the  clan 
that  the  brig  went  down  in  the  lump  and  didnae  break. 
But  it  was  a  very  unlucky  thing  for  you,  that  same  ;  for 
if  any  wreck  had  come  ashore  they  would  have  hunted 
high  and  low,  and  would  soon  have  found  ye." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    HOUSE    OF    FEAR. 

Night  fell  as  we  wei-e  walking,  and  the  eloatls,  which 
had  broken  up  in  the  afternoon,  settled  in  and  thick- 
ened, so  that  it  fell,  for  the  season  of  the  year,  extremely 
dark.  The  way  we  went  was  over  rough  mountain 
sides ;  and  though  Alan  pushed  on  with  an  assured 
manner,  I  could  by  no  means  see  how  he  directed 
himself. 

At  last,  about  half-past  ten  of  the  clock,  we  came  to 
the  top  of  a  brae,  and  saw  lights  below  us.  It  seemed 
a  liouse  door  stood  open  and  let  out  a  beam  of  fire  and 
candle  light ;  and  all  round  the  house  and  steading,  five 
or  six  persons  were  moving  hurriedly  about,  each  carry- 
ing a  lighted  brand. 

*' James  must  have  tint  his  wits,''  said  Alan.  "If 
this  was  the  soldiers  instead  of  you  and  me  he  would  be 
in  a  bonny  mess.  But  I  daresay  he'll  have  a  sentry  on 
the  road,  and  he  would  ken  well  enough  no  soldiers 
would  find  the  way  that  we  came." 

Hereupon  he  whistled  three  times,  in  a  particular 
manner.     It  was  strange  to  see  how,  at  the  first  sound 


KIDNAPPED.  187 

of  it,  all  the  moving  torches  came  to  a  stand,  as  if  the 
bearers  were  affrighted  ;  and  how,  at  the  third,  the  bus- 
tle began  again  as  before. 

Having  thus  set  folks'  minds  at  rest,  we  came  down 
the  brae,  and  were  met  at  the  yard  gate  (for  this  place 
was  like  a  well-doing  farm)  by  a  tall,  handsome  man  of 
more  than  fifty,  who  cried  out  to  Alan  in  the  Gaelic. 

"James  Stewart,"  said  Alan,  "I  will  ask  ye  to  speak 
in  Scotch,  for  here  is  a  young  gentleman  with  me  that 
has  nane  of  the  other.  This  is  him,"  he  added,  putting 
his  arm  through  mine,  ''  a  young  gentleman  of  the  low- 
lands, and  a  laird  in  his  country  too,  but  I  am  thinking 
it  will  be  the  better  for  his  health  if  we  give  his  name 
the  go-by." 

James  of  the  Glens  turned  to  me  for  a  moment,  and 
greeted  me  courteously  enough  ;  the  next  he  had  turned 
to  Alan. 

"This  has  been  a  dreadful  accident,"  he  cried.  "It 
will  bring  trouble  on  the  country."  And  he  wrung  his 
hands. 

"Hoots!"  said  Alan,  "ye  must  take  the  sour  with 
the  sweet,  man.  Colin  Roy  is  dead,  and  be  thankful  for 
that ! " 

"Ay,"  said  James,  "and  by  my  troth,  I  wish  he  was 
alive  again  ! "  It's  all  very  fine  to  blow  and  boast  be- 
forehand ;  but  now  it's  done,  Alan  ;  and  who's  to  bear 
the  wyte  *  of  it  ?   The  accident  fell  out  in  Appin — mind 

*  Blame. 


188  KIDNAPPED. 

ye  that,  Alan ;  it's  Appiu  that  must  pay ;  and  I  am  a 
man  that  has  a  family." 

While  this  was  going  on,  I  looked  about  me  at  the 
servants.  Some  were  on  ladders,  digging  in  the  thatch 
of  the  house  or  the  farm  buildings,  from  which  they 
brought  out  guns,  swords,  and  different  weapons  of  war  ; 
others  carried  them  away  ;  and  by  the  sound  of  mattock 
blows  from  somewhere  further  down  the  brae,  I  suppose 
they  buried  them.  Tliough  they  were  all  so  busy,  there 
prevailed  no  kind  of  order  in  their  efforts  ;  men  strug- 
gled together  for  the  same  gun  and  ran  into  each  other 
with  their  burning  torches  ;  and  James  was  continually 
turning  about  from  his  talk  with  Alan,  to  cry  out  orders 
which  were  apparently  never  understood.  The  faces  in 
the  torchlight  were  like  those  of  people  overborne  with 
hurry  and  panic  ;  and,  though  none  spoke  above  his 
breath,  their  speech  sounded  both  anxious  and  angry. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  a  lassie  came  out  of  the 
house  carrying  a  pack  or  bundle  ;  and  it  has  often  made 
me  smile  to  think  how  Alan's  instinct  awoke  at  the  niere 
sight  of  it. 

"  What's  that  the  lassie  has  ?"  he  asked. 

"We're  Just  setting  the  house  in  order,  Alan,"  said 
James,  in  his  frightened  and  somewhat  fawning  way. 
"  They'll  search  Appin  with  candles,  and  we  must  have 
all  things  straight.  AVe're  digging  the  bit  guns  and 
swords  into  the  moss,  ye  see  ;  and  these,  I  am  thinking, 
will  be  your  ain  French  clothes." 


KIDNAPPED.  189 

"Bury  my  French  clothes !"  cried  Alan.  "Troth, 
no  ! "  And  he  laid  hold  upon  the  packet  and  retired 
into  the  barn  to  shift  himself,  recommending  me  in  the 
meanwhile  to  his  kinsman. 

James  carried  me  accordingly  into  the  kitchen,  and 
sat  down  with  me  at  table,  smiling  and  talking  at  first 
in  a  very  hospitable  manner.  But  presently  the  gloom 
returned  u^wn  him  ;  he  sat  frowning  and  biting  his 
fingers ;  only  remembered  me  from  time  to  time ;  and 
then  gave  me  but  a  word  or  two  and  a  poor  smile,  and 
back  into  his  private  terrors.  His  wife  sat  by  the  fire 
and  wept,  with  her  face  in  her  hands  ;  his  eldest  son 
was  crouched  upon  the  floor,  running  over  a  great  mass 
of  papers  and  now  and  again  setting  one  alight  and 
burning  it  to  the  bitter  end ;  all  the  while  a  servant  lass 
with  a  red  face  was  rummaging  about  the  room,  in  a 
blind  hurry  of  feai",  and  whimj)ering  as  she  went;  and 
every  now  and  again,  one  of  the  men  would  thrust  in 
his  face  from  the  yard  and  cry  for  orders. 

At  last  James  could  keep  his  seat  no  longer,  and  begged 
my  permission  to  be  so  unmannerly  as  walk  about.  "I 
am  but  poor  company  altogether,  sir,"  says  he,  "but  I 
can  think  of  nothing  but  this  dreadful  accident,  and  the 
trouble  it  is  like  to  bring  upon  quite  innocent  persons." 

A  little  after  he  observed  his  son  burning  a  paper, 
which  he  thought  should  have  been  kept  ;  and  at  that 
his  excitement  burst  out  so  that  it  was  painful  to  wit- 
ness.    He  struck  the  lad  repeatedly. 


190  KIDNAPPED. 

**  Are  you  gone  gyte  ?  "  *  be  cried.  "  Do  you  wish  to 
hang  your  father  ?  "  and  forgetful  of  my  presence,  car- 
ried on  at  him  a  long  time  together  in  the  Gaelic,  the 
young  man  answering  nothing  ;  only  the  wife,  at  the 
name  of  lianging,  throwing  her  apron  over  her  face  and 
gobbing  out  louder  than  before. 

This  was  all  Avretched  for  a  stranger  like  myself  to 
hear  and  see  ;  and  I  was  right  glad  wlien  Alan  returned, 
looking  like  himself  in  his  fine  French  clothes,  though 
(to  be  sure)  they  were  now  grown  almost  too  battered 
and  withered  to  deserve  that  name.  I  was  then  taken 
out  in  my  turn  by  another  of  the  sons,  and  given  that 
change  of  clothing  (of  which  I  had  stood  so  long  in 
need),  and  a  pair  of  Highland  brogues,  made  of  deer- 
leather,  rather  strange  at  first,  but  after  a  little  practice 
very  easy  to  the  feet. 

By  the  time  I  came  back,  Alan  must  have  told  his 
story  ;  for  it  seemed  understood  that  I  was  to  fly  with 
him,  and  they  were  all  busy  upon  our  equipment.  They 
gave  us  each  a  sword  and  pistols,  though  I  professed  my 
inal)ility  to  use  the  former  ;  and  witli  these,  and  some 
ammunition,  a  bag  of  oatmeal,  an  iron  pan,  and  a  bottle 
of  right  French  brandy,  we  were  ready  for  the  heather. 
Money,  indeed,  was  lacking.  I  had  about  two  guineas 
left ;  Alan's  belt  having  been  despatched  by  another 
hand,  that  trusty  messenger  liad  no  more  than  seven- 
teen-pence  to  his  whole  fortune  ;  and  as  for  James,  it 

*  Mad. 


-      KIDNAPPED.  191 

appears  he  had  hrought  himself  so  low  with  journeys  to 
Edinburgh  and  legal  expenses  on  behalf  of  the  tenants, 
that  he  could  only  scrape  together  three  and  fivepence 
halfpenny  ;  the  most  of  it  in  coppers. 

"  This'U  no  do,"  said  Alan. 

"Ye  must  find  a  safe  bit  somewhere  near  by,"  said 
James,  "  and  get  word  sent  to  me.  Ye  see,  ye'll  have 
to  get  this  business  prettily  off,  Alan.  This  is  no  time 
to  be  stayed  for  a  guinea  or  two.  They're  sure  to  get 
wind  of  ye,  sure  to  seek  ye,  and  by  my  way  of  it,  sure  to 
lay  on  ye  the  wyte  of  this  day's  accident.  If  it  falls  on 
you,  it  falls  on  me  that  am  your  near  kinsman  and  har- 
boured ye  while  ye  were  in  the  country.     And  if  it 

comes  on  me "  he  paused,  and  bit  his  fingers,  with 

a  white  face.      "It  would  be  a  painful  thing  for  our 
friends  if  I  was  to  hang,"  said  he. 

"  It  would  be  an  ill  day  for  Appin,"  says  Alan. 

"It's  a  day  that  sticks  in  my  throat,"  said  James, 
"  0  man,  man,  man — man,  Alan  !  you  and  me  have 
spoken  like  two  fools  ! "  he  cried,  striking  his  hand 
upon  the  wall  so  that  the  house  rang  again. 

"  Well,  and  that's  true,  too,"  said  Alan  ;  "  and  my 
friend  from  the  lowlands  here  "  (nodding  at  me)  "  gave 
me  a  good  word  upon  that  head,  if  I  would  only  have 
listened  to  him." 

"  But  see  here,"  said  James,  returning  to  his  former 
manner,  "  if  they  lay  me  by  the  heels,  Alan,  it's  then 
that  you'll  be  needing  the  money.     For  with  all  that  I 


192  KIDNAPPED. 

have  said,  and  tliat  you  liavo  said,  it  will  look  very  black 
against  the  two  of  us  ;  do  ye  mark  that  ?  Well,  follow 
me  ont,  and  ye'U  sec  that  I'll  liave  to  get  a  paper  out 
against  ye  mysel'  ;  I'll  have  to  offer  a  reward  for  ye  ; 
ay,  will  I  !  It's  a  sore  thing  to  do  between  such  near 
friends;  but  if  I  get  the  dirdum*  of  this  dreadful 
accident,  I'll  have  to  fend  for  myself,  man.  Do  ye  see 
that  ?  " 

He  spoke  with  a  pleading  earnestness,  taking  Alan  by 
the  breast  of  the  coat. 

"Ay,"  said  Alan,  ''I  see  that." 

"And  ye'll  have  to  be  clear  of  the  country,  Alan — 
ay,  and.  clear  of  Scotland — you  and  your  friend  from 
the  lowlands,  too.  For  I'll  have  to  paper  your  friend 
from  the  lowlands.  Ye  see  that,  Alan — say  that  ye  see 
that ! " 

I  thought  Alan  flushed  a  bit.  "  This  is  unco  hard 
on  me  that  brought  him  here,  James,"  said  he,  throw- 
ing his  head  back.     "  It's  like  making  me  a  traitor  !  " 

"Now,  Alan,  man!"  cried  James,  "look  things  in 
the  face  !  He'll  be  papered  anyway  ;  Mungo  Campbell  '11 
be  sure  to  paper  him  ;  what  matters  if  I  paper  him,  too  ? 
And  then,  Alan,  I  am  a  man  that  has  a  family."  And 
then,  after  a  little  pause  on  both  sides  :  "And,  Alan, 
it'll  be  a  jury  of  Campbells,"  said  he. 

"There's  one  thing,"  said  Alan,  musingly,  "that 
naebody  kens  his  name." 

*  Blame. 


KIDNAPPED.  193 

"  Nor  yet  they  shallnae,  Alan  !  There's  my  hand 
on  that,"  cried  James,  for  all  the  world  as  if  he  had 
really  known  my  name  and  was  foregoing  some  advan- 
tage. ''But  just  the  habit  he  was  in,  and  what  he 
looked  like,  and  his  age,  and  the  like  ?  I  couldnae  well 
do  less." 

*'  I  wonder  at  your  father's  son,"  cried  Alan,  sternly. 
"  Would  ye  sell  the  lad  with  a  gift  ?  would  ye  change 
his  clothes  and  then  betray  him  ?  " 

"No,  no,  Alan,"  said  James.  ''No,  no  :  the  habit 
he  took  off — the  habit  Mungo  saw  him  in."  But  I 
thought  he  seemed  crest-fallen  ;  indeed,  he  was  clutch- 
ing at  every  straw  ;  and  all  the  time,  I  daresay,  saw  the 
faces  of  his  hereditary  foes  on  the  bench  and  in  the  jiiry- 
box,  and  the  gallows  in  the  background. 

"Well,  sir,"  says  Alan,  turning  to  me,  "what  say 
ye  to  that  ?  Ye  are  here  under  the  safeguard  of  my 
honour  ;  and  it's  my  part  to  see  nothing  done  but  what 
shall  please  you." 

"I  have  but  one  word  to  say,"  said  I;  "for  to  all 
this  dispute  I  am  a  perfect  stranger.  But  the  plain 
common  sense  is  to  set  the  blame  where  it  belongs,  and 
that  is  on  the  man  that  fired  the  shot.  Paper  him,  as 
ye  call  it,  set  the  hunt  on  him ;  and  let  honest,  innocent 
folk  show  their  faces  in  safety." 

But  at  this  both  Alan  and  James  cried  out  in  horror ; 

bidding  me  hold  my   tongue,  for  that  was  not  to  be 

thought   of ;   and    asking   me    "  What    the   Camerons 
13 


:'i 


194  KIDNAPPED. 

would  tliink?*'  (wliieh  ag;iin  confirmed  mc,  it  must 
have  been  a  Cameron  from  Mamorc  that  did  the  act), 
and  if  I  did  not  see  that  the  lad  might  be  caught  ?  "  Ye 
havenae  suiely  thouglit  of  tliat  ?"'  said  they,  with  such 
innocent  earnestness,  tiiat  my  hands  droi)ped  at  my 
side,  and  I  despaired  of  argument. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  I,  "paper  mc,  if  you  please, 
])aper  Alan,  paper  King  George  !  We're  all  three  inno- 
cent, and  that  seems  to  be  what's  wanted  !  But  at  least, 
sir,"  said  I  to  James,  recovering  from  my  little  fit  of 
annoyance,  "I  am  Alan's  friend,  and  if  1  can  be  liel])ful 
to  friends  of  his,  [  will  not  stumble  at  the  risk." 

I  thought  it  best  to  put  a  fair  face  on  my  consent, 
for  I  saw  Alan  troubled  ;  and  besides  (thinks  I  to  my- 
self) as  soon  as  my  back  is  turned,  they  will  paper  me, 
as  they  call  it,  whether  I  consent  or  not.  But  in  this 
I  saw  I  was  wrong  ;  for  I  had  no  sooner  said  the  words, 
than  Mrs.  Stewart  leaped  out  of  her  chair,  came  running 
over  to  us,  and  wept  first  upon  my  neck  and  then  on 


>     ^  Alan's,  blessing  God  for  our  goodness  to  her  family. 

,    '^-^     "As    for    you,   Alan,    it    was    no    more  than    your 

c- -^       bounden  duty,"  she  said.     "  But  for  this  lad  that  has 

^V     come  here  and  seen  us  at  our  worst,  and  seen  the  good- 

o    man  fleeching  like  a  suitor,  him  that  by  rights  should 

give  his  commands  like  any  king — as  for  you,  my  lad," 

she  says,  "  my  heart  is  wae  not  to  have  your  name,  but 

I  have  your  face  ;  and  as  long  as  my  heart  beats  under 

my  bosom,  1  will  keej)  it,  and  think  of  it,  and  bless  it." 


KIDNAPPED.  195 

And  with  that  she  kissed  me,  and  burst  once  more  into 
such  sobbing,  that  I  stood  abashed. 

"  Hoot,  hoot,"  said  Alan,  looking  mighty  silly. 
"  The  day  comes  unco  soon  in  this  month  of  July  ;  and 
to-morrow  there'll  be  a  fine  to-do  in  Appin,  a  fine  rid- 
ing of  dragoons,  and  crying  of  '  Cruachan  ! '  *  and 
running  of  red -coats  ;  and  it  behoves  you  and  me  to  be 
the  sooner  gone." 

Thereupon  we  said  farewell,  and  set  out  again,  bend- 
ing somewhat  eastward,  in  a  fine  mild  dark  night,  and 
over  much  the  same  broken  country  as  before. 

*  The  rallying  word  of  the  Campbells. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    FLIGHT    IN    THE    HEATHER  :    THE    ROCKS. 

Sometimes  we  walked,  sometimes  ran  ;  and  as  it  drew 
on  to  morning,  walked  ever  tiie  less  and  ran  the  more. 
Though,  upon  its  face,  that  country  appeared  to  be  a 
desert,  yet  there  were  huts  and  houses  of  the  people, 
of  which  we  must  have  passed  more  than  twenty,  hidden 
in  quiet  places  of  the  hills.  "When  we  came  to  one  of 
these,  Alan  would  leave  me  in  the  way,  and  go  himself 
and  rap  upon  the  side  of  the  house  and  speak  awliile 
at  the  window  with  some  sleeper  awakened.  This  was 
to  pass  the  news  ;  which,  in  that  country,  was  so  much 
of  a  duty  that  Alan  must  pause  to  attend  to  it  even  while 
fleeing  for  his  life  ;  and  so  well  attended  to  by  others, 
that  in  more  than  half  of  the  houses  where  we  called, 
they  had  heard  already  of  the  murder.  In  the  others, 
as  well  as  I  could  make  out  (standing  back  at  a  distance 
and  iiearing  a  strange  tongue)  the  news  was  received 
with  more  of  consternation  than  surprise. 

For  all  our  hurry,  day  began  to  come  in  while  we 
were  still  far  from  any  shelter.  It  found  us  in  a  pro- 
digious valley,  strewn  with  rocks  and  where  ran  a  foam- 
ing river.     Wild  mountains  stood  around  it ;  there  grew 


KIDNAPPED.  197 

there  neither  grass  nor  trees  ;  and  I  have  sometimes 
thought  since  then,  that  it  may  have  been  the  valley 
called  Glencoe,  where  the  massacre  was  in  the  time  of 
King  William.  But  for  the  details  of  our  itinerary,  I 
am  all  to  seek ;  our  way  lying  now  by  short  cuts,  now 
by  great  detours  ;  our  pace  being  so  hurried  ;  our  time 
of  journeying  usually  by  night  ;  and  the  names  of  such 
places  as  I  asked  and  heard  being  in  the  Gaelic  tongue 
and  the  more  easily  forgotten. 

The  first  peep  of  morning,  then,  showed  us  this 
horrible  place,  and  I  could  see  Alan  knit  his  brow. 

"This  is  no  fit  place  for  you  and  me,"  he  said. 
"This  is  a  place  they're  bound  to  watch." 

And  with  that  he  ran  harder  than  ever  down  to  the 
water-side,  in  a  part  where  the  river  was  split  in  two 
among  three  rocks.  It  went  through  with  a  horrid 
thundering  that  made  my  belly  quake  ;  and  there  hung 
over  the  lynn  a  little  mist  of  spray.  Alan  looked 
neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  but  jumped  clean 
upon  the  middle  rock  and  fell  there  on  his  hands  and 
knees  to  check  himself,  for  that  rock  was  small  and  he 
might  have  pitched  over  on  the  far  side.  I  had  scarce 
time  to  measure  the  distance  or  to  understand  the  peril 
before  I  had  followed  him,  and  he  had  caught  and 
stopped  me. 

So  there  we  stood,  side  by  side  upon  a  small  rock 
slippery  with  spray,  a  far  broader  leap  in  front  of  us, 
and    the  river   dinning   upon  all   sides.     When   I   saw 


198  KIDNAPPED. 

where  I  was  there  came  on  me  a  deadiy  sickness  of  fear, 
and  I  put  my  hand  over  my  eyes.  Alan  took  mc  and 
shook  me  ;  I  saw  he  was  speaking,  but  the  roaring  of 
the  falls  and  the  trouble  of  my  mind  prevented  me  from 
hearing;  only  I  saw  Jiis  face  was  red  Avith  anger,  and 
that  he  stamped  u])on  the  rock.  The  same  look  showed 
me  the  water  raging  by  and  the  mist  hanging  in  the 
air ;  and  with  that,  I  covered  my  eyes  again  and 
shuddered. 

The  next  minute  Alan  had  set  the  brandy  bottle  to 
my  lips,  and  forced  me  to  drink  about  a  gill,  whicli  sent 
the  blood  into  my  head  again.  Then,  jnitting  his  hands 
to  his  mouth  and  liis  mouth  to  my  ear  he  shouted 
"Hang  or  Drown!"  and  turning  liis  back  upon  me, 
leaped  over  the  farther  branch  of  the  stream,  and  landed 
safe. 

I  was  now  alone  upon  the  rock,  which  gave  me  the 
more  room  ;  the  brandy  was  singing  in  my  ears  ;  I  had 
this  good  example  fresh  before  me,  and  just  wit  enough 
to  see  that  if  I  did  not  leap  at  once,  I  should  never  leap 
at  all.  I  bent  low  on  my  knees  and  flung  myself  forth, 
with  that  kind  of  anger  of  despair  that  has  sometimes 
stood  me  in  stead  of  courage.  Sure  enough,  it  was  but 
my  hands  that  reached  the  full  length  ;  these  slipped, 
caught  again,  slipped  again  ;  and  f  was  sliddering  back 
into  the  lynn,  when  Alan  seized  me,  first  by  the  hair, 
then  by  the  collar,  and  with  a  great  strain  dragged  me 
into  safety. 


KIDNAPPED.  199 

Never  a  word  he  said,  but  set  off  running  again  for 
his  life,  and  I  must  stagger  to  my  feet  and  run  after 
him.  I  had  been  weary  before,  but  now  1  was  sick  and 
bruised,  and  partly  drunken  with  the  brandy  ;  I  kept 
stumbling  as  I  ran,  I  had  a  stitch  that  came  near  to  over- 
master me  ;  and  when  at  last  Alan  paused  under  a  great 
rock  that  stood  there  among  a  number  of  others,  it  was 
none  too  soon  for  David  Balfour. 

A  great  rock,  I  have  said;  but  by  rights  it  was  two 
rocks  leaning  together  at  the  top,  both  some  twenty  feet 
high,  and  at  the  first  sight  inaccessible.  Even  Alan 
(thtmgh  you  may  say  he  iiad  as  good  as  four  hands) 
failed  twice  in  an  attempt  to  climb  them  ;  and  it  was 
only  at  the  third  trial,  and  then  by  standing  on  my 
shoulders  and  leaping  up  with  such  force  as  I  thought 
must  have  broken  my  collar-bone,  that  he  secured  a 
lodgment.  Once  there,  he  let  down  his  leathern  girdle  ; 
and  with  the  aid  of  that,  and  a  pair  of  shallow  footholds 
in  the  rock,  I  scrambled  up  beside  him. 

Then  I  saw  why  we  had  come  there  ;  for  the  two 
rocks,  both  being  somewhat  hollow  on  the  top  and 
sloping  one  to  the  other,  made  a  kind  of  dish  or  saucer, 
where  as  many  as  three  or  four  men  might  have  lain 
hidden. 

All  this  while,  Alan  had  not  said  a  word,  and  had  run 
and  climbed  with  such  a  savage,  silent  frenzy  of  hurry, 
that  I  knew  he  was  in  mortal  fear  of  some  miscarriage. 
Jlven  now  we  were  on  the  rock  he  said  nothing,  nor  ro 


200  KIDNAPPED, 

much  as  relaxed  the  frowning  look  upon  his  face  ;  but 
clapped  flat  down,  and  keeping  only  one  eye  above  the 
edge  of  our  place  of  shelter,  scouted  all  round  the 
compass.  The  dawn  had  come  quite  clear  ;  we  could 
see  the  stony  sides  of  the  valley,  and  its  bottom,  which 
was  bestrewed  with  rocks,  and  the  river,  which  went 
from  one  side  to  another,  and  made  white  falls;  but 
nowhere  the  smoke  of  a  house,  nor  any  living  creature 
but  some  eagles  screaming  round  a  cliff. 

Then  at  last  Alan  smiled. 

"  Ay,"  said  he,  "  now  we  have  a  chance  ;  "  and  then 
looking  at  mo  with  some  amusement,  "  Ye're  no  very 
gleg*  at  the  jumping," said  he. 

At  this  I  suppose  I  coloured  Avith  mortification,  for 
he  added  at  once,  "  Hoots  !  small  blame  to  ye  !  To  be 
feared  of  a  thing  and  yet  to  do  it,  is  what  makes  the 
prettiest  kind  of  a  man.  And  then  there  was  water 
there,  and  water's  a  thing  that  dauntons  even  me.  No, 
no,"  said  Alan,  "it's  no  you  that's  to  blame,  it's  me." 

I  asked  him  "why. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "I  have  proved  myself  a  gomeral 
this  night.  For  first  of  all  I  take  a  wrong  road,  and 
that  in  my  own  country  of  Appin  ;  so  that  the  day  has 
caught  us  where  we  should  never  have  been  ;  and  thanks 
to  that,  we  lie  here  in  some  danger  and  mair  discomfort. 
And  next  (which  is  the  worst  of  the  two,  for  a  man  that 
has  been  so  much  among  the  heather  as  myself)  I  have 

*  Brisk. 


KIDNAPPED. 


201 


come  wanting  a  water-bottle,  and  here  we  lie  for  a  long 
summer's  day  with  naething  but  neat  spirit.  Ye  may 
think  that  a  small  matter  ;  but  before  it  comes  night, 
David,  ye'll  give  me  news  of  it." 

I  was  anxious  to  redeem  my  character,  and  offered,  if 
he  would  pour  out  the  brandy,  to  run  down  and  fill 
the  bottle  at  the  river. 

"I  wouldnae  waste  the  good  spirit  either,"  says  he. 
"It's  been  a  good  friend  to  you  this  night,  or  in  my  poor 
opinion,  ye  would  still  be  cocking  on  yon  stone.  And 
what's  mair,"  says  he,  "ye  may  have  observed  (you 
that's  a  man  of  so  much  penetration)  that  Alan  Breck 
Stewart  was  perhaps  walking  quicker  than  his  ordinar'.  " 

"  You  !  "  I  cried,  "  you  were  running  fit  to  burst." 

"  Was  I  so  ?  "  said  he.  "Well,  then,  ye  may  depend 
upon  it,  there  was  nae  time  to  be  lost.  And  now  here 
is  enough  said  ;  gang  you  to  your  sleep,  lad,  and  I'll 
watch." 

Accordingly,  I  lay  down  to  sleep  ;  a  little  peaty  earth 
had  drifted  in  between  the  top  of  the  two  rocks,  and 
some  bracken  grew  there,  to  be  a  bed  to  me ;  the  last 
thing  I  heard  was  still  the  crying  of  the  eagles. 

I  daresay  it  would  be  nine  in  the  morning  when  I  was 
roughly  awakened,  and  found  Alan's  hand  pressed  upon 
my  mouth. 

"  Wheesht !"  he  whispered.     "Ye  were  snoring." 

*'Well,"  said  I,  surprised  at  his  anxious  and  dark 
face,  "  and  why  not  ?" 


202  KIDNAPPED. 

He  peered  over  the  edge  of  the  rock,  ;ind  signed  to  me 
to  do  the  like. 

It  wns  now  high  day,  cloudless,  and  very  hot.  The 
valley  was  as  clear  as  in  a  picture.  Ahout  half-a-niile 
up  the  walcr  was  a  camp  of  red-coats  ;  a  big  lire  blazed 
ill  ih'Av  midst,  at  which  some  were  cooking  ;  and  near 
by,  on  the  top  of  a  rock  about  as  high  as  ours,  there 
stood  a  sentry,  with  the  sun  sparkling  on  his  arms.  All 
the  way  down  along  tiic  riverside  were  posted  other  sen- 
tries ;  here  near  together,  there  widelier  scattered  ;  some 
planted  like  the  first,  on  places  of  command,  some  on 
the  ground  level,  and  marching  and  counter-marching, 
so  as  to  meet  half  way.  Higher  ui)  the  glen,  Avhere  the 
ground  was  more  open,  the  chain  of  jiostswas  continued 
by  horse-soldiers,  whom  we  could  see  in  the  distance 
riding  to  and  fro.  Lower  down,  the  infantry  continued  ; 
l»ut  as  the  stream  was  suddenly  swelled  by  the  confluence 
of  a  considerable  burn,  they  were  more  widely  set,  and 
only  watched  the  fords  and  stepping-stones. 

I  took  but  one  look  at  them  and  ducked  again  into 
my  place.  It  was  strange  indeed  to  see  this  valley, 
which  had  lain  so  solitary  in  the  hour  of  dawn,  bristling 
with  arms  and  dotted  with  the  red-coats  and  breeches. 

''Ye  see,"  said  Alan,  "this  was  what  I  was  afraid 
of,  Davie  :  (hat  they  would  watch  the  burnside.  They 
began  to  come  in  about  two  hours  ago,  and,  man  !  but 
ye're  a  grand  hand  at  the  sleeping  !  We're  in  a  narrow 
place.     If  they  get  up  the  sides  of  the  hill,  they  could 


KIDNAPPED.  203 

easy  spy  lis  with  a  glass  ;  but  if  they'll  only  keep  in  the 
foot  of  the  valley,  we'll  do  yet.  The  posts  are  thinner 
down  the  water ;  and  come  night,  we'll  try  our  hand  at 
getting  by  them." 

"And  what  are  we  to  do  till  night  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Lie  here,"  says  he,  "and  birstle." 

Tiiat  one  good  Scotch  word,  birstle, 'was  indeed  the 
most  of  the  story  of  the  day  that  we  had  now  to  pass. 
You  are  to  remember  that  we  lay  on  the  bare  top  of  a 
rock,  like  scones  npon  a  girdle  ;  the  sun  beat  upon  us 
cruelly  ;  the  rock  grew  so  heated,  a  man  could  scarce 
endure  the  touch  of  it ;  and  the  little  patch  of  earth  and 
fern,  which  kept  cooler,  was  only  large  enough  for  one 
at  a  time.  We  took  turn  about  to  lie  on  the  naked 
rock,  which  was  indeed  like  the  position  of  that  saint 
that  was  martyred  on  a  gridiron  ;  and  it  ran  in  my 
mind  how  strange  it  was  that,  in  the  same  climate  and 
at  only  a  few  days'  distance,  I  should  have  suffered  so 
cruelly,  first  from  cold  upon  my  island,  and  now  from 
heat  upon  this  rock. 

All  the  while  we  had  no  water,  only  raw  brandy  for 
a  drink,  which  was  worse  than  nothing  ;  but  we  kept 
the  bottle  as  cool  as  we  could,  burying  it  in  the  earth, 
and  got  some  relief  by  bathing  our  breasts  and  temples. 

The  soldiers  kept  stirring  all  day  in  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  now  changing  guard,  now  in  patrolling 
parties  hunting  among  the  rocks.  These  lay  round  in 
so  great  a  number,  that  to  look  for  men  among  them 


204  KIDNAPPED. 

was  like  looking  for  a  needle  in  a  bottle  of  hay  ;  and 
being  so  hopeless  a  task,  it  was  gone  about  with  the  less 
care.  Yet  we  could  see  the  soldiers  pike  their  bayonets 
among  the  heather,  which  sent  a  cold  thrill  into  my 
vitals;  and  they  would  sometimes  hang  about  our  rock, 
so  that  we  scarce  dared  to  breathe. 

It  was  in  this  way  that  I  first  heard  the  right 
English  sjieech  ;  one  fellow  as  he  went  by  actually 
clapping  his  hand  upon  the  sunny  face  of  the  rock  on 
which  we  lay,  and  plucking  it  off  again  with  an  oath. 

"  I  tell  you  it's  'ot,"  says  he  ;  and  I  was  amazed  at 
the  clipping  tones  and  the  odd  sing-song  in  which  he 
spoke,  and  no  less  at  that  strange  trick  of  dropping  out 
the  letter  h.  To  be  sure,  I  had  heard  Ransome ;  but  he 
had  taken  his  ways  from  all  sorts  of  people,  and  spoke 
so  imperfectly  at  the  best,  that  I  set  down  the  most  of 
it  to  childishness.  My  surprise  was  all  the  greater  to 
hear  that  manner  of  spciiking  in  the  mouth  of  a  grown 
man  ;  and  indeed  I  have  never  grown  used  with  it  ;  nor 
3'et  altogether  with  the  English  grammar,  as  perhaps  a 
very  critical  eye  might  here  and  there  spy  out  even  in 
these  memoirs. 

The  tediousness  and  pain  of  these  hours  upon  the 
rocks  grew  only  the  greater  as  the  day  went  on  ;  the 
rock  getting  still  the  hotter  and  the  sun  fiercer.  There 
were  giddiness,  and  sickness,  and  sharp  pangs  like  rheu- 
matism, to  be  supported.  I  minded  then,  and  have 
often  minded  since,  on  the  lines  in  our  Scotch  Psalm  : — 


KIDNAPPED.  205 

"  The  moon  by  night  thee  shall  not  smite, 
Nor  yet  the  sun  by  day  ; " 

and  indeed  it  was  only  by  God's  blessing  that  we  were 
neither  of  us  sun-smitten. 

At  last,  about  two,  it  was  beyond  men's  bearing,  and 
there  was  now  temptation  to  resist,  as  well  as  pain  to 
thole.  For  the  sun  being  now  got  a  little  into  the  west, 
there  came  a  patch  of  shade  on  the  east  side  of  our  rock, 
which  was  the  side  sheltered  from  the  soldiers. 

*' As  well  one  death  as  another,"  said  Alan,  and 
slipped  over  the  edge  and  dropped  on  the  ground  on  the 
shadowy  side. 

I  followed  him  at  once,  and  instantly  fell  all  my 
length,  so  weak  was  I  and  so  giddy  with  that  long  ex- 
posure. Here,  then,  we  lay  for  an  hour  or  two,  aching 
from  head  to  foot,  as  weak  as  water,  and  lying  quite 
naked  to  the  eye  of  any  soldier  who  should  have  strolled 
that  way.  None  came,  however,  all  passing  by  on  the 
other  side  ;  so  that  our  rock  continued  to  be  our  shield 
even  in  this  new  position. 

Presently  we  began  again  to  get  a  little  strength  ; 
and  as  the  soldiers  were  now  lying  closer  along  the 
riverside,  Alan  proposed  that  we  should  try  a  start,  I 
was  by  this  time  afraid  of  but  one  thing  in  the  world; 
and  that  was  to  be  set  back  upon  the  rock  ;  anything 
else  was  welcome  to  me  ;  so  we  got  ourselves  at  once  in 
marching  order,  and  began  to  slip  from  rock  to  rock 
one   after   the   other,  now   crawling  flat  on  our  bellies 


206  KIDNAPPED. 

in    the    shade,    now    making   a   run   for    it,    lieart   in 
mouth. 

The  soldiers,  having  searched  this  side  of  the  valley 
after  a  fashion,  and  being  perhaps  somewhat  sleepy  with 
the  sultriness  of  the  afternoon,  had  now  laid  by  much 
of  their  vigilance,  and  stood  dozing  at  their  posts,  or 
only  kept  a  look-out  along  the  banks  of  the  river  ;  so 
that  in  this  way,  keeping  down  the  valley  and  at  the 
same  time  towards  the  mountains,  we  drew  steadily 
away  from  their  neighbourhood.  But  the  business  was 
the  most  wearing  I  had  ever  taken  part  in.  A  man  had 
need  of  a  hundred  eyes  in  every  part  of  him,  to  keep 
concealed  in  that  uneven  country  and  within  cry  of  so 
many  and  scattered  sentries.  AVhen  we  must  jiass  an 
open  place,  quickness  was  not  all,  but  a  swift  judgment 
not  only  of  the  lie  of  the  whole  country,  but  of  the 
solidity  of  every  stone  on  which  we  must  set  foot  ;  for 
the  afternoon  was  now  fallen  so  breathless  that  the 
rolling  of  a  pebble  sounded  abroad  like  a  pistol  shot, 
and  would  start  the  echo  calling  among  the  hills  and 
cliffs. 

By  sundown,  we  had  made  some  distance,  even  l)y 
our  slow  rate  of  progress,  though  to  be  sure  the  sentry 
on  the  rock  was  still  plainly  in  our  view.  But  now  we 
came  on  something  that  ])nt  all  fears  out  of  season  ;  and 
that  was  a  deep,  rushing  burn  that  tore  down,  in  that 
part,  to  join  the  glen-river.  At  the  sight  of  tliis,  we  cast 
ourselves  on  the  ground  and  plunged  head  and  shoulders 


KIDNAPPED.  207 

in  the  water ;  and  I  cannot  tell  which  was  the  more 
pleasant,  the  great  shock  as  the  cool  stream  went  over 
us,  or  the  greed  with  which  we  drank  of  it. 

We  lay  there  (for  the  banks  hid  ns),  drank  again  and 
again,  bathed  our  chests,  let  our  wrists  trail  in  the  2"un- 
niug  water  till  they  ached  Avith  the  chill ;  and  at  last, 
being  wonderfully  renewed,  we  got  out  the  meal-bag 
and  made  drammach  in  the  iron  pan.  This,  though  it 
is  but  cold  water  mingled  with  oatmeal,  yet  makes  a 
good  enough  dish  for  a  hungry  man  ;  and  where  there 
are  no  means  of  makiug  fire,  or  (as  in  our  case)  good 
reason  for  not  making  one,  it  is  the  chief  stand-by  of 
those  who  have  taken  to  the  heather. 

As  soon  as  the  shadow  of  the  night  had  fallen,  we 
set  forth  again,  at  first  with  the  same  caution,  but  pres- 
ently with  more  boldness,  standing  our  full  height  and 
stepping  out  at  a  good  pace,  of  walking.  The  way  was 
very  intricate,  lying  up  the  steep  sides  of  mountains 
and  along  the  brows  of  cliffs  ;  clouds  had  come  in  with 
the  sunset,  and  the  night  was  dark  and  cool ;  so  that  I 
walked  without  much  fatigue,  but  in  continual  fear  of 
falling  and  rolling  down  the  mountains,  and  with  no 
guess  at  our  direction. 

The  moon  rose  at  last  and  found  us  still  on  the  road  ; 
it  was  in  its  last  quarter  and  was  long  beset  with  clouds; 
but  after  a  while  shone  out,  and  showed  me  many  dark 
heads  of  mountains,  and  was  reflected  far  underneath  us 
on  the  narrow  arm  of  a  sea-loch. 


208  KIDNAPPED. 

At  this  sight  we  both  paused  :  I  struck  with  wonder 
to  find  myself  so  high  and  walking  (as  it  seemed  to  me) 
upon  clouds  :  Alan  to  make  sure  of  his  direction. 

Seemingly  he  was  well  pleased,  and  he  must  cer- 
tainly have  judged  us  out  of  ear-shot  of  all  our  enemies; 
for  throughout  the  rest  of  our  night-march,  he  beguiled 
the  way  with  whistling  of  many  tunes,  warlike,  merry, 
plaintive  ;  reel  tunes  that  made  the  foot  go  faster ; 
tunes  of  my  own  south  country  that  made  me  fain  to  be 
home  from  my  adventures  ;  and  all  these,  on  the  great, 
dark,  desert  mountains,  making  company  upon  the  way. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    FLIGHT   IN   THK    HEATHER;   THE   HEUGH   OF 
CORRYNAKIEGH. 

Early  as  day  comes  in  the  beginning  of  July,  it  was 
still  dark  when  we  reached  our  destination,  a  cleft  in 
the  head  of  a  great  mountain,  with  a  water  running 
through  the  midst,  and  upon  the  one  hand  a  shallow 
cave  in  a  rock.  Birches  grew  there  in  a  thin,  pretty 
wood,  which  a  little  further  on  was  changed  into  a  wood 
of  piues.  The  burn  was  full  of  trout ;  the  wood  of 
cushat-doves  ;  on  the  opening  side  of  the  mountain  be- 
yond, whaups  would  be  always  whistling  and  cuckoos 
were  plentiful.  From  the  mouth  of  the  cleft  we  looked 
down  upon  a  part  of  Mamore,  and  on  the  sea-loch  that 
divides  that  country  from  Appin  ;  and  this  from  so  great 
a  height,  as  made  it  my  continual  wonder  and  pleasure 
to  sit  and  behold  them. 

The  name    of   the  cleft   was   the  Heugh    of   CoiTy- 

nakiegh  ;   and   although  from   its  height  and  being  so 

near  upon  the  sea  it  was  often  beset  with  clouds,  yet  it 

was  on  the  whole  a  pleasant  place,  and  the  five  days  we 

lived  in  it  went  happily. 

We   slept   in  the  cave,  making  our  bed   of   lieather 
14 


210  KIDNAPPED. 

bushes  wliich  we  cut  for  that  purpose,  aud  covering  our- 
selves with  Ahin's  great-coat.  There  was  a  low  con- 
cealed place,  in  a  turning  of  the  glen,  where  we  were  so 
bold  as  to  make  fire  :  so  that  we  could  warm  ourselves 
when  the  clouds  set  in,  and  cook  hot  porridge,  and  grill 
the  little  trouts  that  we  caught  with  our  Iiands  under 
the  stones  and  overhanging  banks  of  the  burn.  This 
was  indeed  our  chief  pleasure  and  business  ;  and  not 
only  to  save  our  meal  against  worse  times,  but  with  a 
rivalry  that  much  amused  us,  we  spent  a  great  part  of 
our  days  at  the  water-side,  stripped  to  the  waist,  and 
groping  about  or  (as  they  say)  guddling  for  these  fish. 
The  largest  we  got  might  have  been  three-quarters  of  a 
pound  ;  but  they  were  of  good  flesh  and  flavour,  and 
when  broiled  upon  the  coals,  lacked  only  a  little  salt  to 
be  delicious. 

In  any  by-time  Alan  must  teach  me  to  use  my  sword, 
for  my  ignorance  had  much  distressed  him  ;  and  I 
think  besides,  as  I  had  sometimes  the  upper  hand  of 
him  ill  the  fishing,  he  was  not  sorry  to  turn  to  an  exer- 
cise where  he  had  so  much  the  upper  hand  of  me.  He 
made  it  somewhat  more  of  a  pain  than  need  have  been, 
for  he  stormed  at  me  all  through  the  lessons  in  a  very 
violent  manner  of  scolding,  and  would  push  me  so  close 
that  I  made  sure  he  must  run  me  Ihrough  the  body.  I 
was  often  tempted  to  turn  tail,  but  held  my  ground  for 
all  that,  and  got  some  profit  of  my  lessons  ;  if  it  was  but 
to  stand  on  guard  with  an  assured  countenance,  wliich 


KIDNAPPED.  211 

is  often  all  that  is  required.  So,  though  I  could  never 
in  the  least  please  my  master,  I  was  not  altogether  dis- 
pleased with  m3"self. 

In  the  meanwhile,  you  are  not  to  suppose  that  we 
neglected  our  chief  business,  which  was  to  get  away. 

''It  will  be  many  a  long  day,"'  Alan  said  to  me  on 
our  first  morning,  "before  the  red-coats  think  upon 
seeking  Corrynakiegh  ;  so  now  we  must  get  word  sent 
to  James,  and  he  must  find  the  siller  for  us." 

'•  And  how  shall  we  send  that  word  ?  "  says  I.  "  We 
are  here  in  a  desert  place,  which  yet  we  dare  not  leave  ; 
and  unless  ye  get  the  fowls  of  the  air  to  be  your  messen- 
gers, I  see  not  what  we  shall  be  able  to  do." 

"Ay?"  said  Alan.  "Ye're  a  man  of  small  contriv- 
ance, David." 

Thereupon  he  fell  in  a  muse,  looking  in  the  embers 
of  the  fire ;  and  presently,  getting  a  piece  of  wood,  he 
fashioned  it  in  a  cross,  the  four  ends  of  which  he  black- 
ened on  the  coals.     Then  he  looked  at  me  a  little  shyly. 

"Could  ye  lend  me  my  button?"'  says  he.  "It 
seems  a  strange  thing  to  ask  a  gift  again,  but  I  own  I 
am  laith  to  cut  another." 

I  gave  him  the  button  ;  whereupon  he  strung  it  on  a 
strip  of  his  great-coat  which  he  had  used  to  bind  the 
cross  ;  and  tying  in  a  little  sprig  of  birch  and  another 
of  fir,  he  looked  upon  his  work  with  satisfaction. 

"Now,"  said  he,  "there  is  a  little  clachan  "  (what 
is  called   a  hamlet  in  the  English)  "not  very  far  from 


212  KIDNAPPED. 

Corrynakiegh,  uiid  it  has  the  name  of  Koalisnacoan. 
There,  there  are  living  many  friends  of  mine  whom  I 
could  trust  with  my  life,  and  some  that  I  ani  no  just  so 
sure  of.  Ye  see,  David,  there  will  bo  money  set  upon 
our  heads ;  James  himsel'  is  to  set  money  on  them  ;  and 
as  for  the  Campbells,  they  would  never  spare  siller  where 
there  was  a  Stewart  to  be  hurt.  If  it  was  otlierwise,  I 
would  go  down  to  Koalisnacoan  whatever,  and  trust  my 
life  into  these  people's  hands  as  lightly  as  I  would  trust 
another  with  my  glove." 

"  But  being  so  ?  "  said  I. 

"Being  so,"  said  he,  "1  would  as  lief  they  didnae 
see  me.  There's  bad  folk  everywhere,  and  what's  far 
worse,  weak  ones.  So  when  it  comes  dark  again,  I  will 
steal  down  into  that  clachan,  and  set  this  that  I  have 
been  making  in  the  window  of  a  good  friend  of  mine, 
Jolin  Breck  Maccoll,  a  bouman*  of  Appin's." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  says  I;  "and  if  he  finds  it, 
what  is  he  to  think  ?" 

"Well,"  says  Alan,  "I  wish  he  was  a  man  of  more 
penetration,  for  by  my  troth  I  am  afraid  he  will  make 
little  enough  of  it !  But  this  is  what  I  have  in  my 
mind.  This  cross  is  something  in  the  nature  of  the 
cross-tarrie,  or  fiery  cross,  which  is  the  signal  of  gather- 
ing in  our  clans  ;  yet  he  will  know  well  enough  the  clan 
is  not  to  rise,  for  there  it  is  standing  in  his  window,  and 

*  A  bouman  is  a  tenant  who  takes  stock  from  the  landlord  and 
shares  with  him  the  increase. 


KIDNAPPED.  213 

no  word  with  it.  So  lie  will  say  to  himsel',  The  dan  is 
not  to  rise,  but  there  is  something.  Then  he  will  see  my 
button,  and  that  was  Duncan  Stewart's.  And  then  he 
will  say  to  himsel',  The  son  of  Duncan  is  iti  the  heather 
and  has  need  of  me." 

*'Well,"  said  I,  "it  may  be.  But  even  supposing  so, 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  heather  between  here  aud  the 
Forth." 

*'And  that  is  a  very  true  word,"  says  Alan.  "But 
then  John  Breck  will  see  the  sprig  of  birch  and  the 
sprig  of  pine  ;  and  he  will  say  to  himsel'  (if  he  is  a  man 
of  any  penetration  at  all,  which  I  misdoubt),  Alan  will 
be  lying  in  a  wood  which  is  both  of  pines  and  birches. 
Then  he  will  think  to  himsel',  27i,at  is  not  so  very  rife 
hereabout;  and  then  he  will  come  and  give  us  a  look  up 
in  Corrynakiegh.  And  if  he  does  not,  David,  the  devil 
may  fly  away  with  him,  for  what  I  care  ;  for  he  will  no 
be  worth  the  salt  to  his  porridge." 

"Eh,  man,"  said  I,  drolling  with  him  a  little, 
"  you're  very  ingenious  !  But  would  it  not  be  simpler 
for  you  to  write  him  a  few  words  in  black  and  white  ?  " 

"  And  that  is  an  excellent  observe,  Mr.  Balfour  of 
Shaws,"  says  Alan,  drolling  with  me;  "and  it  would 
certainly  be  much  simpler  for  me  to  write  to  him,  but 
it  would  be  a  sore  Job  for  John  Breck  to  read  it.  He 
would  have  to  go  to  the  school  for  two-three  years  ; 
and  it's  possible  we  might  be  wearied  waiting  on  him." 

So  that  night  Alan  carried  down  his  fiery  cross  and 


214  KIDNAPPED. 

set  it  in  the  bouman's  window.  He  was  troubled  wben 
he  came  back  ;  for  the  dogs  had  barked  and  the  I'olk 
run  out  from  their  houses;  and  lie  tliought  he  had 
heard  a  clatter  of  arms  and  seen  a  red-coat  come  to  one 
of  the  doors.  On  all  accounts,  \vc  lay  the  next  day  in 
the  borders  of  the  wood  and  kept  a  close  look-out ;  so 
that  if  it  was  John  Breck  that  came,  we  might  be  ready 
to  guide  him,  and  if  it  was  the  red-coats,  we  should 
have  time  to  get  away. 

About  noon  a  man  was  to  be  spied,  straggling  up  the 
open  side  of  the  mountain  in  the  sun,  and  looking 
round  him  as  he  came,  from  under  his  hand.  No  sooner 
had  Alan  seen  him  than  he  whistled  ;  the  man  turned 
and  came  a  little  towards  us  :  then  Alan  would  give 
another  "  peep  !  "  and  the  man  would  come  still  nearer  ; 
and  so  by  the  sound  of  whistling,  he  was  guided  to  the 
spot  where  we  lay. 

He  was  a  ragged,  wild,  bearded  man,  about  forty, 
grossly  disfigured  with  the  small-pox,  and  looked  both 
dull  and  savage.  Although  his  English  was  very  bad 
and  broken,  yet  Alan  (according  to  his  very  handsome 
use,  whenever  I  was  by)  would  suffer  him  to  speak  no 
Gaelic.  Perhaps  the  strange  language  made  him  appear 
more  backward  than  he  really  was ;  but  I  thought  he 
had  little  good-will  to  serve  us,  and  what  he  had  was  the 
child  of  terror. 

Alan  would  have  had  him  carry  a  message  to  James  ; 
but  the  bouman  would  hear  of  no  message.      "  She  was 


KIDNAPPED.  215 

forget  it,"'  he  said  in  his  screaming  voice  ;  and  would 
either  have  a  letter  or  wash  his  hands  of  us. 

I  thought  Alan  would  be  gravelled  at  that,  for  we 
lacked  the  means  of  writing  in  that  desert.  But  he  was 
a  man  of  more  resources  than  1  knew  ;  searched  the 
wood  until  he  found  a  quill  of  a  cushat-dove,  which  he 
shaped  into  a  pen  ;  made  himself  a  kind  of  ink  with 
gunpowder  from  his  horn  and  water  from  the  running 
stream ;  and  tearing  a  corner  from  his  French  military 
commission  (Avhich  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  like  a  talis- 
man to  keep  him  from  the  gallows),  he  sat  down  and 
wrote  as  follows  : 

"Dear  Kinsman, — Please  send  the  money  by  the  bearer  to  the 

place  he  kens  of. 

"  Your  affectionate  cousin, 

"A.  S." 

This  ho  intrusted  to  the  bouman,  who  promised  to 
make  what  manner  of  speed  he  best  could,  and  carried 
it  off  with  him  down  the  hill. 

He  was  three  full  days  gone,  but  about  five  in  the 
evening  of  the  third,  we  heard  a  whistling  in  the  wood, 
which  Alan  answered  ;  and  presently  the  bouman  came 
up  the  waterside,  looking  for  us,  right  and  left.  He 
seemed  less  sulky  than  before,  and  indeed  he  was  no 
doubt  well  pleased  to  have  got  to  the  end  of  such  a  dan- 
gerous commission. 

He  gave  us  the  news  of  the  country  ;  that  it  was  alive 
with  red-coats  ;  that  arms  were  being  found,  and  poor 


216  KIDNAPPED. 

folk  brought  in  trouble  daily  ;  und  that  James  and  some 
of  his  servants  were  already  clapped  in  prison  at  Fort 
AVilliam,  under  strong  suspicion  of  comj)licity.  It 
seemed,  it  was  noised  on  all  sides  that  Alan  Breck  had 
fired  the  shot  ;  and  there  was  a  bill  issued  for  both  him 
and  me,  with  one  hundred  pounds  reward. 

This  was  all  as  bad  as  could  be  ;  and  the  little  note 
the  bouman  had  carried  us  from  Mrs.  Stewart  was  of  a 
miserable  sadness.  In  it  she  besought  Alan  not  to  let 
himself  be  captured,  assuring  him,  if  he  fell  in  the  hands 
of  the  troops,  both  he  and  James  were  no  better  than 
dead  men.  The  money  she  had  sent  was  all  that  she 
could  beg  or  borrow,  and  she  prayed  heaven  we  could  be 
doing  with  it.  Lastly,  she  said  she  enclosed  us  one  of 
the  bills  in  which  we  were  described. 

This  we  looked  upon  with  great  curiosity  and  not  a 
little  fear,  partly  as  a  man  may  look  in  a  mirror,  partly 
as  he  might  look  into  the  barrel  of  an  enemy's  gun  to 
judge  if  it  be  truly  aimed.  Alan  was  advertised  as  "a 
small,  pock-marked,  active  man  of  thirty-five  or  thereby, 
dressed  in  a  feathered  hat,  a  French  side-coat  of  blue 
with  silver  buttons  and  lace  a  great  deal  tarnished,  a  red 
waistcoat  and  breeches  of  black  shag  ;  "  and  I  as  *'  a  tall 
strong  lad  of  about  eighteen,  wearing  an  old  blue  coat, 
very  ragged,  an  old  Highland  bonnet,  a  long  homespun 
waistcoat,  blue  breeches  ;  his  legs  bare ;  low-country 
shoes,  wanting  the  toes  ;  speaks  like  a  lowlander,  and 
has  no  beard." 


KIDNAPPED.  217 

Alan  was  well  enough  pleased  to  see  his  finery  so 
fully  remembered  and  set  down  ;  only  when  he  came  to 
the  word  tarnish,  he  looked  upon  his  lace  like  one  a 
little  mortified.  As  for  myself,  I  thought  I  cut  a 
miserable  figure  in  the  bill,  and  yet  was  well  enough 
pleased  too;  for  since  T  had  changed  these  rags,  the 
description  had  ceased  to  be  a  danger  and  become  a 
source  of  safety. 

**  Alan,"  said  I,  "you  should  change  your  clothes.'' 

"  Na,  troth  ! "  said  Alan,  "  I  have  nae  others.  A  fine 
sight  I  would  be  if  I  went  back  to  France  in  a  bonnet ! " 

This  put  a  second  reflection  in  my  mind  :  that  if  I 
were  to  separate  from  Alan  and  his  tell-tale  clothes,  I 
should  be  safe  against  arrest,  and  might  go  openly  about 
my  business.  Nor  was  this  all ;  for  suppose  I  was 
arrested  when  I  was  alone,  there  was  little  against  me  ; 
but  suppose  I  was  taken  in  company  with  the  reputed 
murderer,  my  case  would  begin  to  be  grave.  For  gener- 
osity's sake,  I  dare  not  speak  my  mind  upon  this  head  ; 
but  I  thought  of  it  none  the  less. 

I  thought  of  it  all  the  more,  too,  when  the  bouman 
brought  out  a  green  purse  with  four  guineas  in  gold, 
and  the  best  part  of  another  in  small  change.  True,  it 
was  more  than  I  had.  But  then  Alan,  with  less  than 
five  guineas,  had  to  get  as  far  as  France  ;  I,  with  my 
less  than  two,  not  beyond  Queensferry ;  so  that,  taking 
things  in  their  proportion,  Alan's  society  was  not  only 
a  peril  to  my  life  but  a  burden  on  my  purse. 


218  KIDNAPPED. 

But  there  was  no  thought  of  the  sort  in  the  honest 
head  of  my  comi)auion.  He  believed  he  was  serving, 
helping,  and  protecting  me.  And  what  could  I  do  but 
hold  my  peace,  and  chafe,  and  take  my  chance  of  it  ? 

"It's  little  enough,"  said  Alan,  putting  the  purse  in 
his  pocket,  "but  it'll  do  my  business.  And  now  John 
Breck,  if  ye  will  hand  me  over  my  button,  this  gentle- 
man and  me  will  be  for  taking  the  road." 

But  the  bouman,  after  feeling  about  in  a  hairy  purse 
that  hung  in  front  of  him  in  the  Highland  manner 
(though  he  wore  otherwise  the  lowland  habit,  with  sea- 
trousers)  began  to  roll  his  eyes  strangely,  and  at  last 
said,  "Her  nainsel  will  loss  it,"  meaning  he  thought  he 
had  lost  it. 

"What!"  cried  Alan,  "you  will  lose  my  button, 
that  was  my  father's  before  me  ?  Now,  I  will  tell  you 
what  is  in  my  mind,  John  Breck  :  it  is  in  my  mind  this 
is  the  worst  day's  work  that  ever  ye  did  since  ye  were 
born." 

And  as  Alan  spoke,  he  set  his  hands  on  his  knees  and 
looked  at  the  bouman  with  a  smiling  mouth,  and  that 
dancing  light  in  his  eyes  that  meant  mischief  to  his 
enemies. 

Perhaps  the  bouman  was  honest  enough  ;  perhaps  he 
had  meant  to  cheat  and  then,  finding  himself  alone 
with  two  of  us  in  a  desert  place,  cast  back  to  honesty  as 
being  safer ;  at  least,  and  all  at  once,  ho  seemed  to  find 
the  button  and  handed  it  to  Alan. 


KIDNAPPED.  219 

"  Well,  and  it  is  a  good  thing  for  the  honour  of  the 
Maccolls,"  said  Alan,  and  then  to  me,  "Here  is  my 
button  back  again,  and  I  thank  you  for  parting  with  it, 
which  is  of  a  piece  with  all  your  friendships  to  me." 
Then  he  took  the  warmest  parting  of  the  bouman. 
"For,"  says  he,  ''ye  have  done  very  well  by  me,  and 
set  your  neck  at  a  venture,  and  I  will  always  give  you 
the  name  of  a  good  man." 

Lastly,  the  bouman  took  himself  off  by  one  way  ;  and 
Alan  and  I  (getting  our  chattels  together)  struck  into 
another  to  resume  our  flight. 


CIIArTER  XXII. 

THE    FLIGHT    IN   THE    HEATHER  :    THE    MUIR. 

More  than  eleven  hours  of  incessant,  hard  travelling 
brought  us  early  in  the  morning  to  the  end  of  a  range 
of  mountains.  In  front  of  us  there  lay  a  piece  of  low, 
broken,  desert  land,  which  we  must  now  cross.  The 
sun  was  not  long  up  and  shone  straight  in  our  eyes;  a 
little,  thin  mist  went  up  from  the  face  of  the  moorland 
like  a  smoke;  so  that  (as  Alan  said)  there  might  have 
been  twenty  squadrons  of  dragoons  there,  and  we  none 
the  wiser. 

We  sat  down,  therefore,  in  a  howe  of  the  hillside,  till 
the  mist  should  have  risen,  and  made  ourselves  a  dish 
of  drammach,  and  held  a  council  of  war. 

"  David,"  said  Alan,  "this  is  the  kittle  bit.  Shall 
we  lie  here  till  it  comes  night,  or  shall  we  risk  it  and 
stave  on  ahead  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  I  am  tired  indeed,  but  I  could  walk 
as  far  again,  if  that  was  all." 

"Ay,  but  it  isnae,"  said  Alan,  "nor  yet  the  half. 
This  is  how  we  stand  :  Appin's  fair  death  to  us.  To  the 
south,  it's  all  Campbells,  and  no  to  be  thought  of.  To 
the  north  ;  well,  there's  no  muckle  to  be  gained,  by  going 


KIDNAPPED.  221 

north  ;  neither  for  you,  that  wants  to  get  to  Queensfen-y, 
nor  yet  for  me,  that  wants  to  get  to  France.  Well,  then, 
we'll  can  strike  east." 

"  East  be  it ! "  says  I,  quite  cheerily  ;  but  I  was  think- 
ing, in  to  myself :  "0  man,  if  you  would  only  take  one 
point  of  the  compass  and  let  me  take  any  other,  it  would 
be  the  best  for  both  of  us." 

"  Well,  then,  east,  ye  see,  we  have  the  Muirs,"  said 
Alan.  "Once  there,  David,  its  mere  pitch-and-toss. 
Out  on  yon  bald,  naked,  flat  place,  where  can  a  body 
turn  to  ?  Let  the  red-coats  come  over  a  hill,  they  can 
spy  you  miles  away ;  and  the  sorrow's  in  their  iiorses 
heels  !  they  would  soon  ride  you  down.  It's  no  good 
place,  David  ;  and  I'm  free  to  say,  it's  worse  by  day- 
light than  by  dark," 

''Alan,"  said  I,  "hear  my  way  of  it.  Appin's  death 
for  us  ;  we  have  none  too  much  money,  nor  yet  meal ; 
the  longer  they  seek,  the  nearer  they  may  guess  where 
we  are  ;  it's  all  a  risk  ;  and  I  give  my  word  to  go  ahead 
until  we  drop." 

Alan  was  delighted.  "There  are  whiles,"  said  he, 
when  ye  are  altogether  too  canny  and  Whiggish  to  be 
company  for  a  gentleman  like  me  ;  but  there  come  other 
whiles  when  ye  show  yoursel'  a  mettle  spark  ;  and  it's 
then,  David,  that  I  love  ye  like  a  brother." 

The  mist  rose  and  died  away,  and  showed  us  that 
country  lying  as  waste  as  the  sea ;  only  the  moorfowl 
and  the  peevvees  crying  upon  it,  and  far  over  to  the  east. 


222  KIDNAPPED. 

a  herd  of  deer,  moving  like  dots.  Much  of  it  was  red 
heather  ;  much  of  tlie  rest  broken  up  with  bogs  and 
liags  ;ui(l  peaty  pools  ;  some  had  been  burnt  black  in  u 
heath-fire  ;  and  in  another  j^lace  there  waS  quite  a  forest 
of  dead  firs,  standing  like  skeletons.  A  wearier  looking 
desert  man  never  saw  ;  but  at  least  it  was  clear  of 
troops,  which  was  our  point. 

"We  went  down  accordingly  into  the  waste,  and  began 
to  make  our  toilsome  and  devious  travel  towards  the 
eastern  verge.  There  were  the  tops  of  mountains  all 
round  (you  are  to  remember)  from  whence  we  might  be 
spied  at  any  moment  ;  so  it  behoved  us  to  keep  in  the 
hollow  parts  of  the  moor,  and  when  these  turned  aside 
from  our  direction,  to  move  upon  its  naked  face  with 
infinite  care.  Sometimes  for  half-an-hour  together  we 
must  crawl  from  one  heather-bush  to  another,  as  hunters 
do  when  they  are  hard  upon  the  deer.  It  was  a  clear 
day  again,  with  a  blazing  sun  ;  the  water  in  the  brandy 
bottle  was  soon  gone ;  and  altogether,  if  I  had  guessed 
what  it  would  be  to  crawl  half  the  time  upon  my  belly 
and  to  walk  mucli  of  the  rest  stooping  nearly  to  the 
knees,  I  should  certainly  have  held  back  from  such  a 
killing  enterprise. 

Toiling  and  resting  and  toiling  again,  we  wore  away 
the  morning  ;  and  about  noon  lay  down  in  a  thick  bush 
of  heather  to  sleep.  Alan  took  the  first  watch  ;  and  it 
seemed  to  me  I  luid  scarce  closed  my  eyes  before  I  was 
shaken  up  to  tako  the  second.     AVe  had  no  clock  to  go 


KIDNAPPED.  223 

by  ;  and  Alan  stuck  a  sprig  of  heath  in  the  ground  to 
serve  instead  ;  so  that  as  soon  as  the  shadow  of  the  bush 
should  fall  so  far  to  the  east,  I  might  know  to  rouse 
him.  But  I  was  by  this  time  so  weary  that  I  could  have 
slept  twelve  hours  at  a  stretch  ;  I  had  the  taste  of  sleep 
in  my  throat  ;  my  joints  slept  even  when  my  mind  was 
waking  ;  the  hot  smell  of  the  heather,  and  the  drone  of 
the  wild  bees,  were  like  possets  to  me  ;  and  every  now 
and  again  I  would  give  a  jump  and  find  I  had  been 
dozing. 

The  last  time  I  woke,  I  seemed  to  come  back  from 
further  away,  and  thought  the  sun  had  taken  a  great 
start  in  the  heavens.  I  looked  at  the  sprig  of  heath, 
and  at  that  I  could  have  cried  aloud  ;  for  I  saw  I  had 
l)etrayed  my  trust.  My  head  was  nearly  turned  with 
fear  and  shame  ;  and  at  what  I  saw,  when  I  looked  out 
around  me  on  the  muir,  my  heart  was  like  dying  in  my 
body.  For  sure  enough,  a  body  of  horse-soldiers  had 
come  down  during  my  sleep,  and  were  drawing  near  to 
us  from  the  south-east,  spread  out  in  the  shape  of  a  fan 
and  riding  their  horses  to  and  fro  in  the  deep  parts  of 
the  heather. 

When  I  waked  Alan,  he  glanced  first  at  the  soldiers, 
then  at  the  mark  and  the  position  of  the  sun,  and 
knitted  his  brows  with  a  sudden,  quick  look,  both  ugly 
and  anxious,  which  was  all  the  reproach  I  had  of  him. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  now  ?  "  I  asked. 

**  We'll  have  to  play  at  being  hares,"  said  he.     "  Do 


224  KIDNAPPED. 

ye  see  yon  mountain  ?  "  pointing  to  one  on  the  north- 
eastern sky. 

*' Ay,"  said  I. 

"Well,  then,"  says  he,  "let  us  strike  for  that.  Its 
name  is  Ben  Alder  ;  it  is  a  wild,  desert  mountain  full  of 
hills  and  hollows,  and  if  we  can  win  to  it  before  the 
morn,  we  may  do  yet." 

"But,  Alan,"  cried  I,  "  that  will  take  us  across  the 
very  coming  of  the  soldiers  ! " 

"I  ken  that  fine,"  said  he;  "but  if  we  are  driven 
back  on  Appin,  we  are  two  dead  men.  So  now,  David 
man,  be  brisk  ! " 

With  that  he  began  to  run  forward  on  his  hands  and 
knees  with'  an  incredible  quickness,  as  though  it  were 
his  natural  way  of  going.  All  the  time,  too,  he  kept 
winding  in  and  out  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  moorland 
where  we  were  the  best  concealed.  Some  of  these  had 
been  burned  or  at  least  scathed  with  fire  ;  and  there  rose 
in  our  faces  (which  were  close  to  the  ground)  a  blind- 
ing, choking  dust  as  fine  as  smoke.  The  water  was  long 
out  ;  and  this  posture  of  ruimmg  on  the  hands  and 
knees  brings  an  overmastering  weakness  and  weariness, 
so  that  the  joints  ache  and  the  wrists  faint  under  your 
weight. 

Now  and  then,  indeed,  where  was  a  big  bush  of 
heather,  we  lay  awhile  and  panted,  and  putting  aside 
the  leaves,  looked  back  at  the  dragoons.  They  had  not 
spied  us,  for  they  held  straight  on  ;  a  half-troop,  I  think, 


KIDNAPPED.  225 

covering  about  two  miles  of  ground  and  beating  it 
mighty  thoroughly  as  they  went.  I  had  awakened  just 
in  time ;  a  little  later,  and  we  must  have  fled  in  front 
of  them,  instead  of  escaping  on  one  side.  Even  as  it 
was,  the  least  misfortune  might  betray  us ;  and  now 
and  again,  when  a  grouse  rose  out  of  the  heather  with  a 
clap  of  wings,  we  lay  as  still  as  the  dead  and  were  afraid 
to  breathe. 

The  aching  and  faintness  of  my  body,  the  labouring 
of  my  heart,  the  soreness  of  my  hands,  and  the  smart- 
ing of  my  throat  and  eyes  in  the  continual  smoke  of 
dust  and  ashes,  had  soon  grown  to  be  so  unbearable 
that  I  would  gladly  have  given  up.  Nothing  but  the 
fear  of  Alan  lent  me  enough  of  a  false  kind  of  courage 
to  continue.  As  for  himself  (and  you  are  to  bear  in 
mind  that  he  was  cumbered  with  a  great-coat)  he  had 
first  turned  crimson,  but  as  time  went  on,  the  redness 
began  to  be  mingled  with  patches  of  white  ;  his  breath 
cried  and  whistled  as  >o  came  ;  and  his  voice,  when  he 
whispered  his  observations  in  my  ear  daring  our  halts, 
sounded  like  nothing  human.  Yet  he  seemed  in  no  way 
dashed  in  spirits,  nor  did  ho  at  all  abate  in  his  activity ; 
so  that  I  was  driven  to  marvel  at  the  man's  endurance. 

At  length,  in  the  first    gloaming  of    the    night,   we 

heard  a  trumpet  sound,  and  looking  back  from  among 

the  heather,   saw  the  troop  beginning  to  collect.      A 

little  after,  they  had  built  a  fire  and  camped  for  the 

night,  about  the  middle  of  the  waste. 
15 


221)  KIDNAITEI). 

At  this  I  begged  tind  besought  that  we  might  lie 
down  and  sleep. 

''There  shall  be  no  sleep  the  night!''  said  Alan. 
"From  now  on,  these  weary  dragoons  of  yours  will  keep 
the  crown  of  tlie  muirland,  and  none  will  get  out  of 
Ap})iTi  but  winged  fowls.  AVe  got  through  in  the  nick 
of  time,  and  shall  wo  Jeopard  what  we've  gained  ?  Na, 
na,  when  the  day  comes,  it  shall  find  you  and  me  in  a 
fast  place  on  Ben  Alder." 

**Alan,"  I  said,  "it's  not  the  Avant  of  will:  it's  the 
strength  that  I  Avant.  If  I  could,  I  would  ;  but  as  sure 
as  I'm  alive,  I  cannot." 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Alan.      "  I'll  carry  ye." 

I  looked  to  see  if  he  were  jesting ;  but  no,  the  little 
man  was  in  dead  earnest ;  and  the  sight  of  so  much 
resolution  shamed  me. 

*'  Lead  away  !  "  said  I.     "I'll  follow." 

He  gave  me  one  look,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Well  done, 
David  !  "  and  off  he  set  again  at  iiis  top  speed. 

It  grew  cooler  and  even  a  little  darker  (but  not  much) 
with  the  coming  of  the  night.  The  sky  was  cloudless; 
it  was  still  early  in  July,  and  pretty  far  north  ;  in  the 
darkest  part  of  that  night,  you  would  have  needed 
pretty  good  eyes  to  read,  but  for  all  that,  I  have  often 
seen  it  darker  in  a  Avinter  midday.  IleaA^y  dew  fell,  and 
drenched  the  moor  like  rain  ;  and  this  refreshed  me  for 
awhile.  When  we  stopped  to  breathe,  and  I  had  time 
to  see  all  about  me  the  clearness  and  SAveetness  of  the 


KIDNAPPED. 


227 


night,  the  shapes  of  the  hills  like  things  asleep,  and  the 
fire  dwindling  away  behind  ns,  like  a  bright  spot  in  the 
midst  of  the  moor,  anger  would  come  upon  me  in  a  clap 
that  I  must  still  drag  myself  in  agony  and  eat  the  dust 
like  a  worm. 

By  what  I  have  read  in  books,  I  think  few  that  have 
held  a  pen  were  ever  really  wearied,  or  they  would  write 
of  it  more  strongly.  I  had  no  care  of  my  life,  neither 
past  nor  future,  and  I  scarce  remembered  there  was  such 
a  lad  as  David  Balfour.  I  did  not  think  of  myself,  but 
just  of  each  fresh  step  which  I  was  sure  would  be  my 
last,  with  despair — and  of  Alan,  who  was  the  cause  of 
it,  with  hatred.  Alan  was  in  the  right  trade  as  a 
soldier ;  this  is  the  officer's  part  to  make  men  continue 
to  do  things,  they  know  not  wherefore,  and  when,  if  the 
choice  was  offered,  they  would  lie  down  where  they 
were  and  be  killed.  And  I  daresay  I  would  have  made 
a  good  enough  private  ;  for  in  these  last  hours,  it  never 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  any  choice,  but  Just  to  obey 
as  long  as  I  was  able,  and  die  obeying. 

Day  began  to  come  in,  after  years,  I  thought ;  and  by 
that  time,  we  were  past  the  greatest  danger,  and  could 
walk  upon  our  feet  like  men,  instead  of  crawling  like 
brutes.  But,  dear  heart,  have  mercy  !  what  a  pair  we 
must  have  made,  going  double  like  old  grandfathers, 
stumbling  like  babes,  and  as  white  as  dead  folk.  Never 
a  word  passed  between  us  ;  each  set  his  mouth  and  kept 
his  eyes  in  front  of  him,  and  lifted  up  his  foot  and  set 


228  KIDNAPPED. 

iL  down  again,  like  pcoplo  lifting  weights  at  a  conn- 
try  play  ;  *  all  the  while,  with  the  moorfowl  crying 
**peep  ! "'  in  the  heather,  and  the  light  coming  slowly 
clearer  in  the  east. 

I  say  Alan  did  as  I  did  :  not  that  ever  I  looked  at 
him,  for  I  had  enough  ado  to  keep  my  feet ;  but  because 
it  is  plain  he  must  have  been  as  stupid  with  weariness 
as  myself,  and  looked  as  little  where  we  were  going,  or 
we  should  not  have  walked  into  an  ambush  like  blind 
men. 

It  fell  in  this  way,  We  were  going  down  a  heathery 
brae,  Alan  leading  and  I  following  a  pace  or  two  behind, 
like  a  fiddler  and  his  wife  ;  when  upon  a  sudden  the 
heather  gave  a  rustle,  three  or  four  ragged  men  leaped 
out,  and  the  next  moment  we  were  lying  on  our  backs, 
each  with  a  dirk  at  his  throat. 

I  don't  think  I  cared  :  the  pain  of  this  rough  hand- 
ling was  quite  swallowed  up  by  the  pains  of  which  I 
was  already  full ;  and  I  was  too  glad  to  have  stopped 
walking  to  mind  about  a  dirk.  I  lay  looking  up  in  the 
face  of  the  man  that  held  me ;  and  I  mind  his  face  was 
black  .with  the  sun  and  his  eyes  very  light,  but  I  was 
not  afraid  of  him.  I  heard  Alan  and  another  whisper- 
ing in  the  Gaelic ;  and  what  they  said  was  all  one  to  me. 

Then  the  dirks  were  put  up,  our  weapons  were  taken 
away,  and  we  were  set  face  to  face,  sitting  in  the  heather. 

"  They  are  Cluny's  men,"  said  Alan.    ''  We  couldnae 

*  Village  fair. 


KIDNAPPED.  229 

have  fallen  better.  We're  just  to  bide  here  with  these, 
which  are  his  out-sentries,  till  thej  can  get  word  to  the 
chief  of  my  arrival." 

Now  Cluny  Maci)herson,  the  chief  of  the  clan 
Vourich,  had  been  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  great  re- 
bellion six  years  before  ;  there  was  a  price  on  his  life  ; 
and  I  had  supposed  him  long  ago  in  France,  with  the 
rest  of  the  heads  of  tliat  desperate  party.  Even  tired 
as  I  was,  the  surprise  of  what  I  heard  half  wakened  me. 

"  What  ?  "  I  cried.     ''  Is  Cluny  still  here  ?  " 

*^  Ay  is  he  so  !  "  said  Alan.  "  Still  in  his  own  coun- 
try and  kept  by  his  own  clan.  King  George  can  do  no 
more." 

I  think  I  would  have  asked  farther,  but  Alan  gave 
me  the  put-off.  "  I  am  rather  wearied,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  would  like  fine  to  get  a  sleep."  And  without  more 
words,  he  rolled  on  his  face  in  a  deep  heather-bush,  and 
seemed  to  sleep  at  once. 

There  was  no  such  thing  possible  for  me.  You  have 
heard  grasshoppers  whirring  in  the  grass  in  the  summer 
time  ?  Well,  I  had  no  sooner  closed  my  eyes,  than  my 
body,  and  above  all  my  head,  belly,  and  Avrists,  seemed 
to  be  filled  with  whirring  grasshoppers  ;  and  I  must 
open  my  eyes  again  at  once,  and  tumble  and  toss,  and 
sit  up  and  lie  down  ;  and  look  at  the  sky  which  dazzled 
me,  or  at  Cluny's  wild  and  dirty  sentries,  peering  out 
over  the  top  of  the  brae  and  chattering  to  each  other  in 
the  Gaelic. 


230  KIDXAPPED. 

That  was  all  the  rest  I  had,  until  the  messenger  re- 
turned ;  when,  as  it  appeared  that  Cluny  would  be  glad 
to  receive  us,  we  must  get  once  more  upon  our  feet  and 
set  forward.  Alan  was  in  excellent  good  spirits,  much 
refreshed  by  his  sleep,  very  hungry,  and  looking 
pleasantly  forward  to  a  dram  and  a  dish  of  hot  collops, 
of  which,  it  seems,  the  messenger  had  brought  him 
word.  For  my  part,  it  made  me  sick  to  hear  of  eating. 
I  had  been  dead-heavy  before,  and  now  I  felt  a  kind  of 
dreadful  lightness,  which  would  not  suffer  me  to  walk. 
I  drifted  like  a  gossamer  ;  the  ground  seemed  to  me  a 
cloud,  the  hills  a  feather-weight,  the  air  to  have  a  cur- 
rent, like  a  running  burn,  which  carried  me  to  and  fro. 
With  all  that,  a  sort  of  horror  of  despair  sat  on  n)y 
mind,  so  that  I  could  have  Ave])t  at  my  own  helplessness. 

I  saw  Alan  knitting  his  brows  at  me,  and  supposed  it 
Avas  in  anger  ;  and  that  gave  me  a  pang  of  light-headed 
fear,  like  what  a  child  may  have.  I  remember,  too, 
that  I  was  smiling,  and  could  not  stop  smiling,  hard 
as  I  tried  ;  for  I  thought  it  was  out  of  place  at  such  a 
time.  But  my  good  companion  had  nothing  in  his 
mind  but  kindness  ;  and  the  next  moment,  two  of  the 
gillies  had  me  by  the  arms,  and  I  began  to  be  carried, 
forward  with  great  swiftness  (or  so  it  appeared  to  me, 
although  I  daresay  it  was  slowly  enough  in  truth) 
through  a  labyrinth  of  dreary  glens  and  hollows  and 
into  the  heart  of  that  dismal  mountain  of  Ben  Alder. 


CHAPTEE    XXIII. 
cluny's  cage. 

We  came  at  last  to  the  foot  of  an  exceeding  steep 
wood,  which  scrambled  up  a  craggy  hillside,  and  was 
crowned  by  a  naked  precipice. 

"It's  here,"  said  one  of  the  guides,  and  we  struck 
up  hill. 

The  trees  clung  upon  the  slope,  like  sailors  on  the 
shrouds  of  a  ship  ;  and  their  trunks  were  like  the  rounds 
of  a  ladder,  by  which  we  mounted. 

Quite  at  tiic  top,  and  just  before  the  rocky  face  of 
the  cliff  sprang  above  the  foliage,  we  found  that  strange 
house  which  was  known  in  the  country  as  "  Cluny's 
Cage."  The  trunks  of  several  trees  had  been  wattled 
across,  the  intervals  strengthened  with  stakes,  and  the 
ground  behind  this  barricade  levelled  up  with  earth  to 
make  the  floor.  A  tree,  which  grew  out  from  the  hill- 
side, was  the  living  centre-beam  of  the  roof.  The  walls 
were  of  wattle  and  covered  with  moss.  The  whole  house 
had  something  of  an  Qg,g  shape  :  and  it  half  hung,  half 
stood  in  that  steep,  hillside  thicket,  like  a  wasp's  nest 
in  a  green  hawthorn. 

Within,   it  was  large  enough  to  shelter  five  or  six 


232  KIDNAPPED. 

persons  witli  some  comfort.  A  projection  of  the  cliff 
Ir.id  been  cunningly  employed  to  be  the  fireplace  ;  and 
the  smoke  rising  iigainst  the  face  of  the  rock,  and  being 
not  dissimihir  in  colour,  readily  escaped  notice  from 
below. 

This  was  but  one  of  Cluny's  hiding-places  ;  he  had 
caves,  Ijcsides,  and  underground  chambers  in  several 
parts  of  his  country  ;  and  following  the  reports  of  his 
scouts,  he  moved  from  one  to  another  as  the  soldiers 
drew  near  or  moved  away.  By  this  manner  of  living, 
and  thanks  to  the  affection  of  his  clan,  he  had  not  only 
stayed  all  this  time  in  safety,  while  so  many  others  had 
fled  or  been  taken  and  slain,  but  stayed  four  or  five 
years  longer,  and  only  went  to  France  at  last  by  the 
express  command  of  his  master.  There  he  soon  died  ; 
and  it's  strange  to  reflect  that  he  may  have  regretted 
his  Cage  upon  Ben  Alder. 

When  we  came  to  the  door,  he  was  seated  by  his  rock 
chimney,  watching  a  gillie  about  some  cookery.  He  was 
mighty  plainly  habited,  with  a  knitted  nightcap  drawn 
over  his  ears,  and  smoked  a  foul  cutty  i)ipe.  For  all 
that  he  had  the  manners  of  a  king,  and  it  was  quite  a 
sight  to  see  him  rise  out  of  his  place  to  welcome  us. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Stewart,  come  awa'  sir  !"  said  lie,  "and 
bring  in  your  friend  that  as  yet  1  dinna  ken  the  name 
of." 

*' And  how  is  yourself,  Cluny  ?"  said  Alan.  ''I  hope 
ye  do  brawly,  sir.     And  I   am  pn»iid  to  see  ye,  and  to 


KIDNAPPED.  283 

present  to  ye  my  friend  tlic  Laird  of  Shaws,  Mr.  David 
Balfour." 

Alan  never  referred  to  my  estate  without  a  touch  of  a 
sneer,  when  we  were  alone  ;  but  with  strangers,  he  rang 
the  words  out  like  a  herald. 

"  Step  in  by,  the  both  of  ye,  gentlemen,"  says  Cluny. 
"  I  make  ye  welcome  to  my  house,  which  is  a  queer, 
rude  place  for  certain,  but  one  where  I  have  entertained 
a  royal  personage,  Mr.  Stewart — ye  doubtless  ken  the 
personage  I  have  in  my  eye.  We'll  take  a  dram  for 
luck,  and  as  soon  as  this  handless  man  of  mine  has  the 
collops  ready,  we'll  dine  and  take  a  hand  at  the  cartes 
as  gentlemen  should.  My  life  is  a  bit  driegh,"  says  he, 
pouring  out  the  brandy  ;  "  I  see  little  company,  and  sit 
and  twirl  my  thumbs,  and  mind  upon  a  great  day  that 
is  gone  by,  and  weary  for  another  great  day  that  we  all 
hope  will  be  upon  the  road.  And  so  here's  a  toast  to 
ye  :  The  Restoration  !" 

Thereupon  we  all  touched  glasses  and  drank.  I  am 
sure  I  wished  no  ill  to  King  George  ;  and  if  he  had 
been  there  himself  in  proper  person,  it's  like  lie  would 
have  done  as  I  did.  No  sooner  had  I  taken  out  the 
dram  than  I  felt  hugely  better,  and  could  look  on  and 
listen,  still  a  little  mistily  perhaps,  but  no  longer  with 
the  same  groundless  horror  and  distress  of  mind. 

It  was  certainly  a  strange  place,  and  wc  had  a  strange 
host.  In  his  long  hiding,  Cluny  had  grown  to  have  all 
manner  of  precise  habits,  like  those  of  an  old  maid.     He 


234  KIDNAPPED. 

hud  a  particular  place,  where  no  one  else  must  sit  ;  the 
Cage  was  arranged  in  a  particular  way,  which  none 
must  disturb  ;  cookery  was  one  of  his  chief  fancies,  and 
even  while  he  was  greeting  us  in,  he  kept  an  eye  to  the 
col  lops. 

It  appears,  he  sometimes  visited  or  received  visits 
from  his  wife  and  one  or  two  of  his  nearest  friends, 
under  the  cover  of  night ;  but  for  the  more  part  lived 
quite  alone,  and  communicated  only  with  his  sentinels 
and  the  gillies  that  waited  on  him  in  the  Cage.  The 
first  thing  in  the  morning,  one  of  them,  who  was  a 
barber,  came  and  shaved  him,  and  gave  him  the  news  of 
the  country,  of  which  he  was  immoderately  greedy. 
There  was  no  end  to  his  questions  ;  he  put  them  as 
earnestly  as  a  child  ;  and  at  some  of  the  answers, 
laughed  out  of  all  bounds  of  reason,  and  would  l)reak 
out  again  laughing  at  the  mere  memory,  hours  after  the 
barber  was  gone. 

To  be  sure,  there  might  have  been  a  purpose  in  his 
questions  ;  for  thougli  he  was  thus  sequestered,  and  like 
the  other  landed  gentlemen  of  Scotland,  stripped  by  the 
late  Act  of  Parliament  of  legal  powers,  he  still  exercised 
a  patriarchal  justice  in  his  clan.  Disputes  were  brought 
to  him  in  his  hiding-hole  to  be  decided  ;  and  the  men  of 
his  country,  who  would  have  snapped  their  lingers  at  the 
Court  of  Session,  laid  aside  revenge  and  paid  down  money 
at  the  bare  word  of  this  forfeited  and  hunted  outlaw. 
When  he  was  angered,  which  was  often  enough,  he  gave 


KIDNAPPED.  235 

his  commands  and  breathed  threats  of  punishment  like 
any  king ;  and  his  gillies  trembled  and  crouched  away 
from  him  like  children  before  a  hasty  father.  With 
each  of  them,  as  he  entered,  he  ceremoniously  shook 
hands,  both  parties  touching  their  bonnets  at  the  same 
time  in  a  military  manner.  Altogether,  I  had  a  fair 
chance  to  see  some  of  the  inner  workings  of  a  Highland 
clan  ;  and  this  with  a  proscribed,  fugitive  chief  ;  his 
country  conquered  ;  the  troops  riding  upon  all  sides  in 
quest  of  him,  sometimes  within  a  mile  of  where  ho  lay  ; 
and  when  the  least  of  the  ragged  fellows  Avhom  he  rated 
and  threatened  could  have  made  a  fortune  by  betray- 
ing him. 

On  that  first  day,  as  soon  as  the  collops  were  ready, 
Cluny  gave  them  with  his  own  hand  a  squeeze  of  a 
lemon  (for  he  was  well  supplied  with  hixuries)  and  bade 
us  draw  in  to  our  meal. 

"  They,"  said  he,  meaning  the  collops,  "  are  such  as 
I  gave  His  Royal  Highness  in  this  very  house  ;  bating 
the  lemon-juice,  for  at  that  time  we  were  glad  to  get  the 
meat  and  never  fashed  for  kitchen.  Indeed,  there  were 
mair  dragoons  than  lemons  in  my  country  in  the  year 
forty-six." 

I  do  not  know  if  the  collops  were  truly  very  good,  but 
my  heart  rose  against  the  very  sight  of  them,  and  I 
could  eat  but  little.  All  the  while  Chiny  entertained  us 
with  stories  of  Prince  Charlie's  stay  in  the  Cage,  giving 
us  the  very  words  of  the  speakers  and  rising  from  his 


28G  KIDNAPPED. 

place  to  show  us  where  they  stood.  By  these,  I  gath- 
ered the  Prince  was  a  gracious,  spirited  boy,  like  the  son 
of  a  race  of  polite  kings,  but  not  so  wise  as  Solomon.  I 
gathered,  too,  that  while  he  was  in  the  Cage,  he  was 
often  drunk  ;  so  the  fault  that  has  since,  by  all  accounts, 
made  such  a  wreck  of  him,  had  even  then  begun  to 
show  itself. 

We  were  no  sooner  done  eating,  than  Cluny  brought 
out  an  old,  thumbed,  greasy  pack  of  cards,  such  as  you 
may  find  in  a  mean  inn  ;  and  his  eyes  brightened  in  his 
face  as  he  proposed  that  we  should  fall  to  playing. 

Now  this  was  one  of  the  things  I  had  been  brought 
up  to  eschew  like  disgrace  ;  it  being  held  by  my  father 
neither  the  part  of  a  Christian  nor  yet  of  a  gentleman, 
to  set  his  own  livelihood  and  fish  for  that  of  others,  on 
the  cast  of  painted  pasteboard.  To  be  sure,  I  might 
have  pleaded  my  fatigue,  which  was  excuse  enough ; 
but  I  thought  it  behoved  that  I  should  bear  a  testimony. 
I  must  have  got  very  red  in  the  face,  but  I  spoke 
steadily,  and  told  them  I  had  no  call  to  be  a  judge  of 
others,  but  for  my  own  part,  it  was  a  matter  in  which  I 
had  no  clearness. 

Cluny  stopped  mingling  the  cards.  ''What  in  deil's 
name  is  this?''  says  he.  ''What  kind  of  AVhiggish, 
canting  talk  is  this,  for  the  house  of  Cluny  Macpher- 
son  ?" 

"  I  will  put  my  hand  in  the  fire  for  Mr.  Balfour," 
says  Alan.     "  He  is  an  honest  and  a  meftJe  gentleman, 


KIDNAPPED.  237 

and  I  would  have  ye  bear  in  mind  who  says  it.  I  bear 
a  king's  name,"  says  he,  cocking  his  hat ;  "and  I  and 
any  that  I  call  friend  are  company  for  the  best.  But 
the  gentleman  is  tired,  and  should  sleep ;  if  he  has  no 
mind  to  the  cartes,  it  will  never  hinder  you  and  me. 
And  I'm  fit  and  willing,  sir,  to  play  ye  any  game  that 
ye  can  name." 

**Sir,"  says  Cluny,  "in  this  poor  house  of  mine,  I 
would  have  you  to  ken  that  any  gentleman  may  follow 
his  pleasure.  If  your  friend  would  like  to  stand  on  his 
head,  he  is  welcome.  And  if  either  he,  or  you,  or  any 
other  man,  is  not  preceesely  satisfied,  I  will  be  proud  to 
step  outside  with  him." 

I  had  no  will  that  these  two  friends  should  cut  their 
throats  for  my  sake. 

*' Sir,"  said  I,  "1  am  A'ery  wearied,  as  Alan  says; 
and  what's  more,  as  you  are  a  man  that  likely  has  sons 
of  your  own,  I  may  tell  you  it  was  a  promise  to  my 
father." 

"Say  nae  mair,  say  nae  mair,"  said  Cluny,  and 
pointed  me  to  a  bed  of  heather  in  a  corner  of  the  Cage. 
For  all  that,  he  was  displeased  enough,  looked  at  me 
askance,  and  grumbled  when  he  looked.  And  indeed  it 
must  be  owned  that  both  my  scruples  and  the  words  in 
which  I  declared  them  smacked  somewhat  of  the  Cove- 
nanter, and  were  little  in  their  place  among  wild  High- 
land Jacobites. 

What  with  the  brandy   and   the  venison,  a  strange 


238  KIDNAPPED. 

heaviness  had  come  over  me  ;  and  I  had  scarce  lain 
down  upon  the  bed  before  I  fell  into  a  kind  of  trance 
in  which  I  continued  almost  the  whole  time  of  our  stay 
in  the  Cage.  Sometimes  I  was  broad  awake  and  under- 
stood what  passed  ;  sometimes  I  only  heard  voices  or 
men  snoring,  like  the  voice  of  a  silly  river;  and  the 
plaids  upon  the  wall  dwindled  down  and  swelled  out 
again,  like  firelight  shadows  on  the  roof.  I  must  some- 
times have  spoken  or  cried  out,  for  I  remember  I  was 
now  and  then  amazed  at  being  answered  ;  ^et  I  was  con- 
scious of  no  particular  nightmare,  only  of  a  general, 
black,  abiding  horror — a  horror  of  the  place  I  was  in, 
and  the  bed  I  lay  in,  and  the  plaids  on  the  wall,  and 
the  voices,  and  the  fire,  and  myself. 

The  barber-gillio.  who  was  a  doctor,  too,  was  called 
in  to  prescribe  for  me  ;  but  as  he  spoke  in  the  Gaelic,  I 
understood  not  a  word  of  his  opinion,  and  was  too  sick 
even  to  ask  for  a  translation.  I  knew  well  enough  I 
was  ill,  and  that  was  all  I  cared  about. 

I  paid  little  heed  while  I  lay  in  this  poor  pass.  But 
Alan  and  Cluny  were  most  of  the  time  at  the  cards,  and 
I  am  clear  that  Alan  must  have  begun  by  winning  ;  for 
I  remember  sitting  up,  and  seeing  them  hard  at  it,  and 
a  great  glittering  pile  of  as  much  as  sixty  or  a  hundred 
guineas  on  the  table.  It  looked  strange  enough,  to  see 
all  this  wealth  in  a  nest  upon  a  cliff-side,  wattled  about 
growing  trees.  And  even  then,  I  thought  it  seemed 
deep  water  for  Alan  to  be  riding,  who  had  no  better 


KIDNAPPED.  239 

battle-horse  than  a  green  purse  and  a  matter  of  five 
pounds. 

The  hick,  it  seems,  changed  on  the  second  day. 
About  noon  I  was  awakened  as  usual  for  dinner,  and  as 
usual  refused  to  eat,  and  was  given  a  dram  with  some 
bitter  infusion  which  the  barber  had  prescribed.  The 
sun  was  shining  in  at  the  open  door  of  the  Cage,  and 
this  dazzled  and  ofPended  me.  Cluny  sat  at  the  table, 
biting  the  pack  of  cards.  Alan  had  stooped  over  the 
bed,  and  had  his  face  close  to  my  eyes  ;  to  which, 
troubled  as  they  were  with  the  fever,  it  seemed  of  the 
most  shocking  bigness. 

He  asked  me  for  a  loan  of  my  money. 

"  What  for  ?"  said  I. 

**  0,  just  for  a  loan,"  said  he. 

"But  why  ?  "  I  repeated.     "  I  don't  see." 

"Hut,  David  !"  said  Alan,  "ye  wouldnae  grudge  me 
a  loan  ? " 

I  would,  though,  if  I  had  had  my  senses  !  But  all  I 
thought  of  then  was  to  get  his  face  away,  and  I  handed 
him  my  money. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  when  we  had  been 
forty-eight  hours  in  the  Cage,  I  awoke  with  a  great 
relief  of  spirits,  very  weak  and  weary  indeed,  but  seeing 
things  of  the  right  size  and  with  their  honest,  every-day 
appearance.  I  hud  a  mind  to  eat,  moreover  ;  rose  from 
bed  of  my  own  movement  ;  and  as  soon  as  we  had 
breakfasted,  stepped  to  the  entry  of  the  Cage  and  sat 


'^■iO  KIDNArPKD. 

down  outside  in  the  to})  of  the  wood.  It  was  a  gray 
day  with  a  cool,  mild  air:  and  I  sat  in  a  dream  all 
morning,  only  disturbed  by  the  passing  by  of  Cluny's 
scouts  and  servants  coming  with  provisions  and  reports  ; 
for  as  the  coast  was  at  that  time  clear,  you  might  almost 
say  he  held  court  openly. 

When  I  returned,  he  and  Alan  had  laid  the  cards 
aside  and  were  questioning  a  gillie  ;  and  the  chief  turned 
about  and  spoke  to  me  in  the  Gaelic. 

"  I  have  no  Gaelic,  sir,"  said  I. 

Now  since  the  card  question,  everything  I  said  or  did 
had  the  power  of  annoying  Cluny.  "Your  name  has 
more  sense  than  yourself,  then,"  said  he,  angrily  ;  "for 
it's  good  Gaelic.  But  the  point  is  this.  My  scout 
reports  all  clear  in  the  south,  and  the  question  is  have 
ye  the  strength  to  go  ?  " 

I  saw  cards  on  the  table,  but  no  gold  ;  only  a  heap 
of  little  written  papers,  and  these  all  on  Cluny's  side. 
Alan  besides  had  an  odd  look,  like  a  man  not  very  well 
content ;  and  I  began  to  have  a  strong  misgiving. 

"  I  do  not  know  if  T  am  as  well  as  I  should  be,"  said 
I,  looking  at  Alan  ;  "but  the  little  money  we  have  has 
a  long  way  to  carry  us." 

Alan  took  his  underlip  into  his  mouth,  and  looked 
upon  the  ground. 

"  David,"  s;iys  he,  at  last,  "  I've  lost  it ;  there's  l\u] 
naked  truth." 

"  My  money,  too  ?  "  said  I. 


KIDNAPPED.  .  241 

"  Your  money,  too,"  says  Alan,  with  a  groan.  "  Yc 
sliouldnae  have  given  it  me.  I'm  daft  when  I  get  to  the 
cartes. " 

"Hoot-toot,  hoot-toot,"  said  Cluny.  "It  was  all 
daffing ;  it's  all  nonsense.  Of  course,  ye'll  have  your 
money  back  again,  and  the  double  of  it,  if  ye'll  make  so* 
fiee  with  me.  It  would  be  a  singular  thing  for  me  to 
keep  it.  It's  not  to  be  su})posed  that  I  would  be  any 
hindrance  to  gentlemen  in  your  situation  ;  that  would 
be  a  singular  thing  ! "  cries  he,  and  began  to  pull  gold 
out  of  his  pocket,  with  a  mighty  red  face. 

Alan  said  nothing,  only  looked  on  the  ground. 

"  Will  you  step  to  the  door  with  me,  sir  ?  "  said  I. 

Cluny  said  he  would  be  very  glad,  and  followed 
me  readily  enough,  but  he  looked  flustered  and  put 
out. 

"And  now,  sir,"  says  I,  "I  must  first  acknowledge 
your  generosity." 

"Nonsensical  nonsense!"  cries  Cluny.  "Where's 
the  generosity  ?  This  is  just  a  most  unfortunate  affair  ; 
but  what  would  ye  have  me  do — boxed  up  in  this  bee- 
skep  of  a  cage  of  mine — but  just  set  my  friends  to  the 
cartes,   when  I  can  get  them  ?     And  if  they  lose,   of 

course,  it's  not  to  be  suj)posed "     And  here  he  came 

to  a  pause. 

"Yes,"  said  I,   "if  they  lose,  you  give  them  back 

tlieir  money  ;  and  if  they  win,  they  carry  away  yours  in 

their  pouches  !     I  have   said   before  that  I  grant  your 
16 


2 12  KIDNAPPED. 

generosity;  but  to  mc,  sir,  it's  a  very  painful  thing  to 
be  placed  in  this  position." 

There  was  a  little  silence,  in  which  Cluny  seemed 
always  as  if  he  was  about  to  speak,  but  said  nothing. 
All  the  time,  he  grew  redder  and  redder  in  the 
face. 

"I  am  a  young  man,"  said  I,  ''and  I  ask  your 
advice.  Advise  me  as  you  would  advise  your  son.  My 
friend  fairly  lost  this  money,  after  having  fairly  gained 
a  far  greater  sum  of  yours  ;  can  I  accept  it  back  again  ? 
would  that  be  the  right  part  for  me  to  play  ?  Whatever 
I  do,  you  can  see  for  yourself  it  must  be  hard  upon  a 
man  of  any  pride," 

"It's  rather  hard  on  me  too,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said 
Cluny,  "  and  ye  give  me  very  much  the  look  of  a  man 
that  has  entrapped  poor  people  to  their  hurt.  I  would- 
nae  have  my  friends  come  to  any  house  of  mine  to  ac- 
cept affronts ;  no,"  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  heat  of 
anger,  "nor  yet  to  give  them  !  " 

"  And  so  you  see,  sir,"  said  I,  ''there  is  something  to 
be  said  upon  my  side  ;  and  this  gambling  is  a  very  poor 
employ  for  gentlefolks.  But  I  am  still  waiting  your 
opinion." 

I  am  sure  if  ever  Cluny  hated  any  man,  it  was  David 
Balfour.  He  looked  mc  all  over  with  a  warlike  eye, 
and  I  saw  the  challenge  at  his  lips.  Ikit  either  my 
youth  disarmed  him,  or  perhaps  his  own  sense  of  jus- 
tice.    Certainly,  it  was  a  mortifying  matter  for  all  con- 


KIDNAPPED.  243 

cerned,  and  not  least  for  Cliiny  ;  tlie  more  credit  that 
he  took  it  as  he  did. 

"Mr.  Balfour,"  said  he,  "I  think  you  are  too  nice 
and  covenanting,  but  for  all  that  you  have  the  spirit  of 
a  very  pretty  gentleman.  Upon  my  honest  word,  ye 
may  take  this  money — it's  what  I  would  tell  my  son — 
and  here's  my  hand  along  with  it." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE  FLIGHT  IN  THE  HEATHER  :  THE  QUARREL. 

Alan  and  I  were  put  across  Loch  Errocht  under 
cloud  of  night,  and  went  down  its  eastern  shore  to 
another  hiding-place  near  the  head  of  Loch  Rannoch, 
whither  we  were  led  by  one  of  the  gillies  from  the  Cage. 
This  fellow  carried  all  our  luggage  and  Alan's  great-coat 
in  the  bargain,  trotting  along  under  the  burthen,  far 
less  than  the  half  of  which  used  to  weigh  me  to  the 
ground,  like  a  stout  hill  pony  with  a  feather ;  yet  he 
was  a  man  that,  in  plain  contest,  I  could  have  broken 
on  my  knee. 

Doubtless  it  was  a  great  relief  to  walk  disencum- 
bered ;  and  perhaps  without  that  relief,  and  the  conse- 
quent sense  of  liberty  and  lightness,  I  could  not  have 
walked  at  all.  I  was  but  new  risen  from  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness, and  there  was  nothing  in  the  state  of  our  affairs  to 
hearten  me  for  much  exertion  ;  tra Addling,  as  we  did, 
over  the  most  dismal  deserts  in  Scotland,  under  a  cloudy 
heaven,  and  with  divided  hearts  among  the  travellers. 

For  long,  we  said  nothing  ;  marching  alongside  or 
one  behind  the  other,  each  with  a  set  countenance  ;  I, 
angry  and   proud,    and   drawing  what  strength   I  had 


KIDNAPPED.  245 

from  these  two  violent  and  sinful  feelings  :  Alan  angry 
and  ashamed,  ashamed  that  he  had  lost  money,  angry 
that  I  should  take  it  so  ill. 

The  thought  of  a  sepai'ation  ran  always  the  stronger 
in  my  mind ;  and  the  more  I  approved  of  it,  the  more 
ashamed  I  grew  of  my  approval.  It  would  be  a  fine, 
handsome,  generous  thing,  indeed,  for  Alan  to  turn 
round  and  say  to  me  :  "  Go,  I  am  in  the  most  danger, 
and  my  company  only  increases  yours."  But  for  me  to 
turn  to  the  friend  who  certainly  loved  me,  and  say  to 
him:  "You  are  in  great  danger,  I  am  in  but  little; 
your  friendship  is  a  burden  ;  go,  take  your  risks  and 

bear  your  hardships  alone ''  no,  that  was  impossible  ; 

and  even  to  think  of  it  privily  to  myself,  made  my 
cheeks  to  burn. 

And  yet  Alan  had  behaved  like  a  child  and  (what  is 
worse)  a  treacherous  child,  AVheedling  my  money  from 
me  while  I  lay  half-conscious  was  scarce  better  than 
theft ;  and  yet  here  he  was  trudging  by  my  side,  with- 
out a  penny  to  his  name,  and  by  what  I  could  see,  quite 
blitiie  to  sponge  upon  the  money  he  had  driven  me  to 
beg.  True,  I  was  ready  to  share  it  with  him  ;  but  it 
made  me  rage  to  see  him  count  upon  my  readiness. 

These  were  the  two  things  uppermost  in  my  mind  ; 
and  I  could  open  my  mouth  upon  neither  without  black 
ungenerosity.  So  I  did  the  next  worse,  and  said  noth- 
ing, nor  so  much  as  looked  once  at  my  companion,  save 
with  the  tail  of  my  eye. 


246  KIDNAPPED. 

At  last,  upon  the  other  side  of  Loch  Errocht,  going 
over  a  smooth,  rushy  place,  where  the  walking  was  easy, 
he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  came  close  to  me. 

"David,"  says  he,  "  this  is  no  way  for  two  friends  to 
take  a  small  accident.  I  have  to  say  that  I'm  sorry  ; 
and  so  that's  said.  And  now  if  you  have  anything,  ye'd 
better  say  it." 

''0,"  says  I,  ''I  have  nothing." 

He  seemed  disconcerted  ;  at  which  I  was  meanly 
pleased. 

"No,"  said  he,  with  rather  a  trembling  voice,  "bnt 
when  I  say  I  was  to  blame  ?  " 

"Why,  of  course,  ye  were  to  l)lanio,"  said  I,  coolly  ; 
"and  you  will  bear  me  out  that  I  have  never  reproached 
you. " 

"Never,"  says  he  ;  "  but  ye  ken  very  well  that  ye've 
done  worse.  Are  we  to  part  ?  Ye  said  so  once  before. 
Are  ye  to  say  it  again  ?  There's  hills  and  heather 
enough  between  here  and  the  two  seas,  David  ;  and  I 
will  own  I'm  no  very  keen  to  stay  where  I'm  no  wanted.'' 

This  pierced  me  like  a  sword,  and.  seemed  to  lay  bare 
my  private  disloyalty. 

"Alan  Breck  !  "  I  cried  ;  and  then  :  "  Do  you  think 
I  am  one  to  turn  my  back  on  you  in  your  chief  need  ? 
You  dursn't  say  it  to  my  face.  My  whole  conduct's 
there  to  give  the  lie  to  it.  It's  true,  I  fell  asleep  upon 
the  Muir ;  l)ut  that  was  from  weariness,  and  you  do 
wrong  to  cast  it  up  to  me " 


KIDNAPPED.  247 

"  Which  is  what  I  never  did,"  said  Alan. 

"But  aside  from  that,"  I  continued,  "what  have  I 
done  that  you  should  even  me  to  dogs  by  such  a  suppo- 
sition ?  I  never  yet  failed  a  friend,  and  it's  not  likely 
I'll  begin  with  you.  There  are  things  between  us  that 
I  can  never  forget,  even  if  you  can." 

"I  will  only  say  this  to  ye,  David,"  said  Alan,  very 
quietly,  "that  I  have  long  been  owing  ye  my  life,  and 
now  I  owe  ye  money.  Ye  should  try  to  make  that 
burden  light  for  me." 

This  ought  to  have  touched  me,  and  in  a  manner  it 
did,  but  the  wrong  manner.  I  felt  I  was  behaving 
badly  ;  and  wms  now  not  only  angry  with  Alan,  but 
angry  with  myself  in  the  bargain  ;  and  it  made  me  the 
more  cruel. 

"You  asked  me  to  speak,"  said  I.  "Well,  then,  I 
will.  You  own  yourself  that  you  have  done  me  a  dis- 
service ;  I  have  had  to  swallow  an  affront ;  I  have  never 
reproached  you,  I  never  named  the  thing  till  you  did. 
And  now  you  blame  me,"  cried  I,  "because  I  caunae 
laugh  and  sing  as  if  I  was  glad  to  be  affronted.  The 
next  thing  will  be  that  I'm  to  go  down  upon  my  knees 
and  thank  you  for  it  !  Ye  should  think  more  of  others, 
Alan  Breck.  If  ye  thought  more  of  others,  ye  would 
perhaps  speak  less  about  yourself ;  and  when  a  friend 
that  likes  you  very  well,  has  passed  over  an  offence 
without  a  word,  you  would  be  blithe  to  let  it  lie,  instead 
of  making  it  a  stick  to  break  his  back  with.     By  your 


248  KIDNAPPED. 

own  Avuy  of  it,  it  Avas  you  that  was  to  blame  ;  then  it 
shouhliiae  1)0  you  to  seek  the  quarrel." 

*'Aweel,"  said  Alan,  ''say  nae  mair." 

And  we  fell  back  into  our  former  silence  ;  and  came 
to  our  journey's  end  and  supped,  and  lay  down  to  sleep, 
without  another  word. 

The  gillie  put  us  across  Loch  Rannoch  in  the  dusk 
of  the  next  day,  and  gave  us  his  opinion  as  to  our  best 
route.  This  was  to  get  us  up  at  once  into  the  tops  of 
the  mountains  :  to  go  round  by  a  circuit,  turning  the 
heads  of  Glen  Lyon,  Glen  Lochay,  and  Glen  Dochart, 
and  come  down  upon  the  lowlands  by  Kippen  and  the 
upper  waters  of  the  Forth.  Alan  was  little  pleased  with 
a  route  wliich  led  us  through  the  country  of  his  blood- 
foes,  the  Glenorchy  Campbells.  He  objected  that  by 
turning  to  the  east,  we  should  come  almost  at  once  among 
the  Athole  Stewarts,  a  race  of  his  own 'name  and  lineage, 
although  following  a  different  chief,  and  come  besides 
by  a  far  easier  and  swifter  way  to  the  place  whither  we 
were  bound.  But  the  gillie,  who  was  indeed  the  chief 
man  of  Cluny's  scouts,  had  good  reasons  to  give  him  on 
all  hands,  naming  the  force  of  troops  in  every  district, 
and  alleging  finally  (as  well  as  I  could  understand)  that 
we  should  nowhere  be  so  little  troubled  as  in  a  country 
of  the  Campbells. 

Alan  gave  Avay  at  last,  but  with  only  luilf  a  heart. 
*'  It's  one  of  the  dowiest  countries  in  Scotland,"  said  he. 
"There's  naething  there  that  I  ken,  but    heatii,  and 


KIDNAPPED.  249 

crows,  and  Campbells.  But  I  see  that  ye're  a  man  of 
some  penetration  ;  and  be  it  as  ye  please  ! " 

We  set  forth  accordingly  by  this  itinerary  ;  and  for 
the  best  part  of  three  nights  travelled  on  eerie  moun- 
tains and  among  the  well-heads  of  wild  rivers  ;  often 
buried  in  mist,  almost  continually  blown  and  rained 
npon,  and  not  once  cheered  by  any  glimpse  of  sunshine. 
By  day,  we  lay  and  slept  in  the  drenching  heather  ;  by 
night,  incessantly  clambered  upon  breakneck  hills  and 
among  rnde  crags.  We  often  wandered  ;  we  were  often 
so  involved  in  fog,  that  we  mnst  lie  quiet  till  it  light- 
ened. A  fire  was  never  to  be  thought  of.  Our  only  food 
was  drammach  and  a  portion  of  cold  meat  that  we  had 
carried  from  the  Cage  ;  and  as  for  drink.  Heaven  knows 
we  had  no  want  of  water. 

This  was  a  dreadful  time,  rendered  the  more  dreadful 
by  the  gloom  of  the  weather  and  the  country.  I  was 
never  warm  ;  my  teeth  chattered  in  my  head  ;  I  was 
troubled  with  a  very  sore  throat,  such  as  I  had  on  the 
isle  ;  I  had  a  painful  stitch  in  my  side,  which  never  left 
me  ;  and  when  I  slept  in  my  wet  bed,  with  the  rain 
beating  above  and  the  mud  oozing  below  me,  it  was  to 
live  over  again  in  fancy  the  worst  part  of  my  adven- 
tures— to  see  the  tower  of  Shaws  lit  by  lightning,  Ean- 
some  carried  below  on  the  men's  backs,  Shaun  dying  on 
the  round-house  floor,  or  Colin  Campbell  grasping  at 
the  bosom  of  his  coat.  From  such  broken  slumbers,  I 
would  be  aroused  in  the  gloaming,  to  sit  up  in  the  same 


250  KIDNAPPED. 

puddle  where  I  had  slept  and  sup  cold  drammach  ;  the 
rain  driving  sharp  in  my  face  or  running  down  my  back 
in  icy  trickles  ;  the  mist  enfolding  us  like  as  in  a  gloomy 
chamber — or  perhaps,  if  the  wind  blew,  falling  suddenly 
apart  and  showing  us  the  gulf  of  some  dark  valley  where 
the  streams  were  crying  aloud. 

The  sound  of  an  infinite  number  of  rivers  came  up 
from  all  round.  In  this  steady  rain,  the  s})rings  of  the 
mountain  were  broken  up  ;  every  glen  gushed  water  like 
a  cistern  ;  every  stream  was  in  high  spate,  and  had  filled 
and  overflowed  its  channel.  During  our  night  tramps, 
it  was  solemn  to  hear  the  voice  of  them  below  in  the  val- 
leys, now  booming  like  thunder,  now  with  an  angry  cry. 
I  could  well  understand  the  story  of  the  Water  Kelpie, 
that  demon  of  the  streams,  who  is  fabled  to  keep  wailing 
and  roaring  at  the  ford  until  the  coming  of  the  doomed 
traveller.  Alan  I  saw  believed  it,  or  half  believed  it ; 
and  when  the  cry  of  the  river  rose  more  than  usually 
sharp,  I  was  little  surprised  (though,  of  course,  I  would 
still  he  shocked)  to  see  him  cross  himself  in  the  manner 
of  the  Catholics. 

During  all  these  horrid  wanderings,  we  had  no  famil- 
iarity, scarcely  even  that  of  speech.  The  truth  is  that  I 
was  sickening  for  my  grave,  which  is  my  best  excuse. 
But  besides  that  I  was  of  an  unforgiving  dis])osition 
from  my  birth,  slow  to  take  offence,  slower  to  forget  it, 
and  now  incensed  both  against  my  companion  and  my- 
self.    For  the  best  part  of  two  days,  he  was  unweariedly 


KIDNAPPED.  251 

* 

kind  ;  silent,  indeed,  bnt  always  ready  to  help,  and 
always  hoping  (as  I  could  very  well  see)  that  my  dis- 
pleasure would  blow  by.  For  the  same  length  of  time, 
I  stayed  in  myself,  nursing  my  anger,  roughly  refusing 
his  services,  and  passing  him  over  with  my  eyes  as  if  he 
had  been  a  bush  or  a  stone. 

The  second  night,  or  rather  the  peep  of  the  third  day, 
found  us  upon  a  very  open  hill,  so  that  we  could  not 
follow  our  usual  plan  and  lie  down  immediately  to  eat 
and  sleep.  Before  we  had  reached  a  place  of  shelter, 
the  gray  had  come  pretty  clear,  for  though  it  still 
rained,  the  clouds  ran  higher  ;  and  Alan,  looking  in  my 
face,  showed  some  marks  of  concern. 

"Ye  had  better  let  me  take  your  pack,"  said  he,  for 
perhaps  the  ninth  time  since  we  parted  from  the  scout 
beside  Loch  Rannoch. 

*'  I  do  very  well,  I  thank  you,"  said  I.  as  cold  as  ice. 

Alan  flushed  darkly.  "  I'll  not  offer  it  again,"  he 
said.     "I'm  not  a  jiatient  man,  David." 

"I  never  said  you  were,"  said  I,  which  was  exactly 
the  rude,  silly  speech  of  a  boy  of  ten. 

Alan  made  no  answer  at  the  time,  but  his  conduct 
answered  for  him.     Henceforth,  it  is  to  be  thought,  he^ 
quite  forgave  himself  for  the  aifair  at  Cluny's  ;  cocked 
his  hat  again,  walked  jauntily,  whistled  airs,  and  looked 
at  me  upon  one  side  with  a  provoking  smile. 

The  third  night  we  were  to  pass  through  the  western 
end  of  the  country  of  Bakjuidder.     It  came  clear  and 


252  KIDNAPPED. 

cold,  with  a  toucli  in  the  air  like  frost,  and  a  northerly 
wind  that  blow  the  clouds  away  and  made  the  stars 
bright.  The  streams  were  full,  of  course,  and  still 
made  a  great  noise  among  the  hills;  but  I  observed  that 
Alan  thought  no  more  upon  the  Kelpie  and  was  in  high 
good  spirits.  As  for  me,  the  change  of  weather  came 
too  late ;  I  had  lain  in  the  mire  so  long  that  (as  the 
Bible  has  it)  my  very  clothes  "abhorred  me  ; "  I  wa.s  dead 
weary,  deadly  sick  and  full  of  pains  and  shiverings  ;  the 
chill  of  the  wind  went  through  me,  and  the  sound  of  it 
confused  my  ears.  In  this  poor  state,  I  had  to  bear  from 
my  companion  something  in  the  nature  of  a  persecution. 
He  spoke  a  good  deal,  and  never  without  a  taunt. 
"AVhig"  was  the  best  name  he  had  to  give  me. 
''Here,"  he  would  say,  "here's  a  dub  for  ye  to  jump, 
my  Whiggie  !  1  ken  you're  a  fine  jumper  !  "  And  so 
on  ;  all  the  time  with  a  gibing  voice  and  face. 

I  knew  it  was  my  own  doing,  and  no  one  else's  ;  but 
I  was  too  miserable  to  i-opent.  1  felt  I  could  drag 
myself  but  little  farther  ;  pretty  soon,  I  must  lie  down 
and  die  on  these  wet  mountains  like  a  sheep  or  a  fox, 
and  my  bones  must  whiten  there  like  the  bones  of  a 
beast.  My  head  was  light,  perhaps  ;  but  I  began  to 
love  the  prospect,  I  began  to  glory  in  the  thought  of 
such  a  death,  alone  in  the  desert,  with  the  wild  eagles 
besieging  my  last  moments.  Alan  would  repent  then, 
I  thought  ;  he  would  remember,  when  I  was  dead,  how 
much    lie   owed   me,   and    the   remembrance  would   be 


KIDNAPPED.  253 

torture.  So  I  went  like  a  sick,  silly,  and  bad-hearted 
schoolboy,  feeding  my  anger  against  a  fellow-man,  when 
I  would  have  been  better  on  my  knees,  crying  on  God 
for  mercy.  And  at  each  of  Alan's  taunts,  I  hugged 
myself.  ''Ah  I"  thinks  I  to  myself,  "I  have  a  better 
taunt  in  readiness  ;  when  I  lie  dov,^n  and  die,  you  will 
feel  it  like  a  buffet  in  j'our  face  ;  ah,  what  a  revenge  ! 
ah,  how  you  will  regret  your  ingratitude  and  cruelty  !  " 

All  the  while,  I  was  growing  worse  and  worse.  Once 
I  had  fallen,  my  legs  simply  doubling  under  me,  and 
this  had  struck  Alan  for  the  moment  ;  but  I  was  afoot 
so  briskly,  and  set  off  again  with  such  a  natural  manner, 
that  he  soon  forgot  the  incident.  Flushes  of  heat  went 
over  me,  and  then  spasms  of  shuddering.  The  stitch  in 
my  side  Avas  hardly  bearable.  At  last,  I  began  to  feel 
that  I  could  trail  myself  no  farther  ;  and  with  that 
there  came  on  me  all  at  once  the  wish  to  have  it  out 
with  Alan,  let  my  anger  blaze,  and  be  done  with  my  life 
in  a  more  sudden  manner.  He  had  just  called  me 
"Whig."     I  stopped. 

'•  Mr.  Stewart,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  that  quivered  like  a 
fiddle-string,  "you  are  older  than  I  am,  and  should 
know  your  manners.  Do  you  think  it  eitber  very  wise 
or  very  witty  to  cast  my  politics  in  my  teeth  ?  I 
thought,  where  folk  differed,  it  was  the  part  of  gentle- 
men to  differ  civilly  ;  and  if  I  did  not,  I  may  tell  you  I 
could  find  a  better  taunt  than  some  of  yours." 

Alan  bad  stopped  opposite  to  me,  his  hat  cocked,  his 


251:  KIDNAPPED. 

hands  in  liis  breeches  pockets,  his  liciid  a  little  to  one 
side.  He  listened,  smiling  evilly,  as  I  could  see  by  the 
starlight ;  and  when  I  had  done  lie  began  to  whistle  a 
Jacobite  air.  It  was  the  air  made  in  mockery  of  General 
Cope's  defeat  at  Preston  Pans  : — 

"  Ilcy,  Johnnie  Cope,  are  ye  waiikin'  yet  ? 
And  are  your  drums  a-beatin"  yet  ?  " 

And  it  came  in  my  mind  that  Alan,  on  the  day  of  that 
battle,  had  been  engaged  upon  tlie  royal  side. 

"Why  do  ye  take  tlitit  air,  Mr.  Stewart?"  said  I. 
"  Is  that  to  remind  me  vou  have  been  beaten  on  both 
sides  ?  " 

The  air  stopped  on  Alan's  lijis.     "  David  !  "  said  he. 

"But  it's  time  these  manners  ceased,"  I  continued  ; 
"and  I  mean  you  shall  henceforth  speak  civilly  of  my 
King  and  my  good  friends  the  Campbells." 

"  I  am  a  Stewart "  began  Alan. 

"0  !"  says  I,  "I  ken  ye  bear  a  king's  name.  But 
you  arc  to  remember,  since  I  have  been  in  the  Highlands, 
I  have  seen  a  good  many  of  those  that  bear  it ;  and  the 
best  I  can  say  of  them  is  this,  that  they  would  be  none 
the  worse  of  washing." 

"Do  you  know  that  you  insult  me  ?"  said  Alan,  very 
low. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  I,  "  for  I  am  not  done  ; 
and   if  you  distaste  the  sermon,  I  doubt  the  pirliecue* 

*  A  second  sermon. 


KIDNAPPED.  265 

will  please  you  as  little.  You  have  been  chased  in  the 
field  by  the  grown  men  of  my  party ;  it  seems  a  poor 
kind  of  pleasure  to  outface  a  boy.  Both  the  Campbells 
and  the  Whigs  have  beaten  you  ;  you  have  run  before 
them  like  a  hare.  It  behoves  you  to  speak  of  them  as 
of  your  betters." 

Alan  stood  quite  still,  the  tails  of  his  great-coat  clap- 
ping behind  him  in  the  wind. 

"  This  is  a  pity,"  he  said  at  last.  ''  There  are  things 
said  that  cannot  be  passed  over." 

"I  never  asked  you  to,"  said  I.     "I  am  as  ready  as 

yourself." 

"Ready  ?"  said  he. 

"Ready,"  I  repeated.  "I  am  no  blower  and  boaster 
like  some  that  I  could  name.  Come  on  ! "  And  draw- 
ing my  sword,  I  fell  on  guard  as  Alan  himself  had 
taught  me. 

"  David  ! "  he  cried.  "  Are  ye  daft  ?  I  cannae  draw 
upon  ye,  David.     It's  fair  murder." 

"That  was  your  lookout  when  you  insulted  me," 
said  I. 

"  It's  the  truth  ! "  cried  Alan,  and  he  stood  for  a 
moment,  wringing  his  mouth  in  his  hand  like  a  man  in 
sore  perplexity.  "It's  the  bare  truth,"  he  said,  and  drew 
his  sword.  But  before  I  could  touch  his  blade  with 
mine,  he  had  thrown  it  from  him  and  fallen  to  the 
ground.  "Na,  na,"  he  kept  saying,  "na,  na — I  can- 
nae, I  cannae." 


256  KIDNAPPED. 

At  this  the  last  of  ni}'  anger  oozed  all  out  of  rae  •,  and 
I  found  myself  only  sick,  and  sorr}%  and  blank,  and 
wondering  at  myself.  I  would  have  given  the  world  to 
take  back  what  I  had  said  ;  but  a  word  once  spoken, 
who  can  recapture  it  ?  I  minded  me  of  all  Alan's 
kindness  and  courage  in  the  past,  how  he  had  helped 
and  cheered  and  borne  with  me  in  our  evil  days ;  and 
then  recalled  my  own  insults,  and  saw  that  I  had  lost 
for  ever  that  doughty  friend.  At  the  same  time,  the 
sickness  that  hung  upon  me  seemed  to  redouble,,  and 
the  pang  in  my  side  was  like  a  sword  for  sharpness.  I 
thought  I  must  have  swooned  where  I  stood. 

This  it  was  that  gave  me  a  thought.  No  apology 
could  blot  out  what  I  luid  said  ;  it  was  needless  to  think 
of  one,  none  could  cover  the  offence ;  but  where  an 
apology  was  vain,  a  mere  cry  for  help  might  bring  Alan 
back  to  my  side.  I  put  my  pride  away  from  me. 
"Alan  !  "  I  said  ;  "if  you  cannae  help  me,  I  must  Just 
die  here." 

He  started  up  sitting,  and  looked  at  me. 

"It's  true,"  said  I.  "I'm  by  with  it.  0,  let  me  get 
into  the  bield  of  a  house — I'll  can  die  there  easier."  I 
had  no  need  to  pretend  ;  whether  I  chose  or  not,  I  spoke 
in  a  weeping  voice  that  would  have  melted  a  heart  of 
stone. 

"  Can  ye  walk,"  asked  Alan. 

"No,"  said  I,  "not  without  help.  This  last  hour, 
my  logs  have  boon  fainting  under  me  ;  I've  a  stitch  in 


KIDNAPPED.  257 

my  side  like  a  red-hot  iron  ;  I  cannae  breathe  right.  If 
I  die,  ye'U  can  forgive  me,  Ahm  ?  In  my  heart,  I  liked 
ye  fine— even  when  I  was  the  angriest." 

"Wheest,    wheesht!"    cried    Alan.       '^Dinnae    say 

that !     David,  man,  ye  ken "     He  shut  his  mouth 

upon  a  sob.  "  Let  me  get  my  arm  about  ye,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  that's  the  way  !  Now  lean  upon  me  hard. 
Gnde  kens  where  there's  a  house  !  We're  in  Balwhidder, 
too ;  there  should  be  no  want  of  houses,  no,  nor  friends' 
houses  here.     Do  you  gang  easier  so,  Davie  ?" 

*' Ay,"  said  I,  ''I  can  be  doing  this  way;"  and  I 
pressed  his  arm  with  my  hand. 

Again  he  came  near  sobbing.  "  Davie,"  said  he, 
"  I'm  no  a  right  man  at  all ;  I  have  neither  sense  nor 
kindness ;  I  couldnae  remember  ye  were  just  a  bairn,  I 
coulduae  see  ye  were  dying  on  your  feet  ;  Davie,  ye'U 
have  to  try  and  forgive  me." 

"0,  man,  let's  say  no  more  about  it!"  said  I. 
"  We're  neither  one  of  us  to  mend  the  other — that's  the 
truth  !  We  must  just  bear  and  forbear,  man  Alan  !  0, 
but  my  stitch  is  sore  !     Is  there  nae  house  ?  " 

'•'  I'll  find  a  house  to  ye,  David,"  he  said,  stoutly. 
''We'll  follow  down  the  burn,  where  there's  bound  to 
be  houses.  My  poor  man,  will  ye  no  be  better  on  my 
back?" 

*' 0,  Alan,"  says  I,   "and  me  a  good  twelve  inches 

taller  ?  " 

"Ye're  no  such  a  tiling,"  cried  Alan,  with  a  start. 
17 


258  KIDNAPPED. 

"  There  may  be  a  trifling  matter  of  an  inch  or  two  ;  I'm 
no  saying  I'm  jnst  exactly  what  ye  would  call  a  tall 
man,  whatever  ;  and  I  daresay,"  he  added,  his  voice 
tailing  off  in  a  laughable  manner,  "  now  when  I  come 
to  think  of  it,  I  daresay  ye'll  be  just  about  right.  Ay, 
it'll  be  a  foot,  or  near  hand  ;  or  may  be  even  mair  !  " 

It  was  sweet  and  laughable  to  hear  Alan  eat  his  words 
up  in  the  fear  of  some  fresh  quarrel.  I  could  have 
laughed,  had  not  my  stitch  caught  me  so  hard  ;  but  if 
I  had  laughed,  I  think  I  must  have  wept  too. 

"Alan,"  cried  I,  "what  makes  ye  so  good  to  me? 
what  makes  ye  care  for  such  a  thankless  fellow  ?" 

"Deed,  and  I  don't  know,"  said  Alan.  "For  just 
precisely  what  I  thought  I  liked  about  ye,  was  that  ye 
never  quarrelled  ; — and  now  I  like  ye  better  ! " 


CHAPTEE    XXV. 


I]Sr     BALQITIDDER, 


At  the  door  of  the  first  house  we  came  to,  Alan 
knocked,  which  was  no  very  safe  enterprise  in  such  a 
part  of  the  Highlands  as  the  Braes  of  Balquidder.  IS^o 
great  clan  held  rule  there  ;  it  was  filled  and  disputed  hy 
small  septs,  and  broken  remnants,  and  what  they  call 
''chiefless  folk,"  driven  into  the  wild  country  about  tlio 
springs  of  Forth  and  Teith  by  the  advance  of  the  Camp- 
bells. Here  were  Stewarts  and  Maclarens,  which  came 
to  the  same  thing,  for  the  Maclarens  followed  Alan's 
chief  in  war,  and  made  but  one  clan  with  Appin.  Here, 
too,  were  many  of  that  old,  proscribed,  nameless,  red- 
handed  clan  of  the  Macgregors.  They  had  always  been 
ill  considered,  and  now  worse  than  ever,  having  credit 
with  no  side  or  party  in  the  whole  country  of  Scotland. 
Their  chief,  Macgregor  of  Macgregor,  was  in  exile  ;  the 
more  immediate  leader  of  that  part  of  them  about  Bal- 
quidder, James  More,  Eob  Eoy's  eldest  son,  lay  waiting 
his  trial  in  Edinburgh  Castle  ;  they  were  in  ill-blood 
with  Highlander  and  Lowlander,  with  the  Grrahames, 
the  Maclarens  and  the  Stewarts  ;  and  Alan,  who  took 
up  the  quarrel  of  any  friend,  however  distant,  was  ex- 
tremely wishful  to  avoid  them. 


2fiO  KIDNAPPED. 

Chance  served  us  very  well  ;  for  it  was  a  household 
of  Maclarens  that  we  found,  where  Alan  was  not  only 
welcome  for  his  name's  sake  but  known  by  reputation. 
Here,  then,  I  was  got  to  bed  without  delay,  and  a  doctor 
fetched,  who  found  me  in  a  sorry  plight.  But  whether 
because  he  was  a  very  good  doctor,  or  I  a  very  young, 
strong  man,  I  lay  bedridden  for  no  more  than  a  week, 
and  before  a  month  I  was  able  to  take  the  road  again 
with  a  good  heart. 

All  this  time  Alan  would  not  leave  me  ;  though  I 
often  pressed  him,  and  indeed  his  foolhardiness  in  stay- 
ing was  a  common  subject  of  outcry  with  the  two  or 
three  friends  that  were  let  into  the  secret.  He  hid  by 
day  in  a  hole  of  the  braes  under  a  little  wood  ;  and  at 
night,  when  the  coast  was  clear,  would  come  into  the 
house  to  visit  me.  I  need  not  say  if  I  was  pleased  to 
see  him  ;  Mrs.  Maclaren,  our  hostess,  thought  nothing 
good  enough  for  such  a  guest ;  and  as  Duncan  Dim 
(which  was  the  name  of  our  host)  had  a  pair  of  pipes  in 
his  house  and  was  much  of  a  lover  of  music,  the  time 
of  my  recovery  was  quite  a  festival,  and  we  commonly 
turned  night  into  day. 

The  soldiers  let  us  be  ;  although  once  a  party  of  two 
companies  and  some  dragoons  went  by  in  the  bottom  of 
the  valley,  where  I  could  see  them  through  the  window 
as  I  lay  in  bed.  What  was  much  more  astonishing,  no 
magistrate  came  near  me,  and  there  was  no  question 
put  of  whence  I  came  or  whither  I  was  going  ;  and  in 


KIDNAPPED.  •  261 

that  time  of  excitement,  I  was  as  free  of  all  inquiry  as 
though  I  had  lain  in  a  desert.  Yet  my  presence  was 
known  before  I  left  to  all  the  people  in  Balquidder  and 
the  adjacent  parts ;  many  coming  about  the  house  on 
visits,  and  these  (after  the  custom  of  the  country)  spread- 
ing the  news  among  their  neighbours.  The  bills,  too, 
had  now  been  printed.  There  was  one  pinned  near  the 
foot  of  my  bed,  where  I  could  read  my  own  not  very 
flattering  ])ortrait  and,  in  larger  characters,  the  amount 
of  the  blood-money  that  had  been  set  upon  my  life. 
Duncan  Dhu  and  the  rest  that  knew  that  I  had  come  there 
in  Alan's  company,  could  have  entertained  no  doubt  of 
who  I  was  ;  and  many  others  must  have  had  their  guess. 
For  though  I  had  changed  my  clothes,  I  could  not 
change  my  age  or  person  ;  and  lowland  boys  of  eighteen 
were  not  so  rife  in  these  parts  of  tiie  world,  and  above 
all  about  that  time,  that  they  could  fail  to  put  one 
thing  Avitli  another  and  connect  me  with  the  bill.  So 
it  was,  at  least.  Other  folk  keep  a  secret  among  two 
or  three  near  friends,  and  somehow  it  leaks  out  ;  but 
among  these  clansmen,  it  is  told  to  a  whole  countryside, 
and  they  will  keep  it  for  a  century. 

There  was  but  one  thing  happened  worth  narrating  ; 
and  that  is  the  visit  I  had  of  Eobin  Oig,  one  of  the  sons 
of  the  notorious  Rob  Roy.  He  Avas  sought  upon  all 
sides  on  a  charge  of  carrying  a  young  woman  from 
Balfron  and  marrying  her  (as  was  alleged)  by  force  ; 
yet  he  stept  about  Balquidder  like  a  gentleman  iu   his 


262  KIDNAPPED. 

own  walled  policy.  It  was  he  who  had  shot  James 
Machircn  at  the  plough  stilts,  a  quarrel  never  satisfied  ; 
yet  he  walked  into  the  house  of  his  blood  enemies  as  a 
rider  miglit  into  a  public  inn. 

Duncan  had  time  to  pass  me  word  of  who  it  was ; 
and  we  looked  at  one  another  in  concern.  You  should 
understand,  it  was  then  close  upon  the  time  of  Alan's 
coming ;  the  two  were  little  likely  to  agree  ;  and  yet  if 
we  sent  word  or  sought  to  make  a  signal,  it  was  sure  to 
arouse  suspicion  in  a  man  under  so  dark  a  cloud  as  the 
Macgregor. 

He  came  in  with  a  great  show  of  civility,  but  like 
a  man  among  inferiors  ;  took  off  iiis  bonnet  to  Mrs. 
Maclaren,  but  clapped  it  on  his  head  again  to  speak  to 
Duncan  ;  and  having  thus  set  himself  (as  he  would  have 
thought)  in  a  proper  light,  came  to  my  bedside  and 
bowed. 

"I  am  given  to  know,  sir,"  says  he,  ''that  your 
name  is  Balfour." 

"They  call  mc  David  Balfour,"  said  1,  "at  your 
service." 

"I  would  give  ye  my  name  in  return,  sir,"  lie 
replied,  "but  it's  one  somewhat  blown  upon  of  late 
days  ;  and  it'll  perhaps  suffice  if  I  tell  ye  that  I  am  own 
brother  to  James  More  Drummond,  or  Macgregor,  of 
whom  ye  will  scarce  have  failed  to  hear." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I,  a  little  alarmed  ;  "nor  yet  of  your 
fatlier,  Macgregor-Campbell."     And  I  sat  up  and  bowed 


KIDNAPPED.  263 

in  bed  ;  for  I  thought  best  to  compliment  him,  in  case 
he  was  proud  of  having  had  an  outlaw  to  his  father. 

He  bowed  in  return.  "  But  what  I  am  come  to  say, 
sir,"  he  went  on,  "  is  this.  In  the  year  '45,  my  brother 
raised  a  part  of  the  'Gregara,'  and  marched  six  com- 
panies to  strike  a  stroke  for  the  good  side  ;  and  the 
surgeon  that  marched  with  our  clan  and  cured  my 
brother's  leg  when  it  was  broken  in  the  brush  at 
Preston  Pans,  was  a  gentleman  of  the  same  name  pre- 
cisely as  yourself.  He  was  brother  to  Balfour  of  Baith  ; 
and  if  you  are  in  any  reasonable  degree  of  nearness  one 
of  that  gentleman's  kin,  I  have  come  to  put  myself  and 
my  people  at  your  command." 

You  are  to  remember  that  I  knew  no  more  of  my 
descent  than  any  cadger's  dog  ;  my  uncle,  to  be  sure, 
had  prated  of  some  of  our  high  connections,  but  nothing 
to  the  present  purpose ;  and  there  was  nothing  left  me 
but  that  bitter  disgrace  of  owning  that  I  could  not  tell. 

Robin  told  me  shortly  he  was  sorry  he  had  put  him- 
self about,  turned  his  back  upon  me  without  a  sign  of 
salutation,  and  as  he  went  toAvards  the  door,  I  could  hear 
him  telling  Duncan  that  I  was  "  only  some  kinless  loon 
that  didn't  know  his  own  father."  Angry  as  I  was  at 
these  words  and  ashamed  of  my  own  ignorance,  I  could 
scarce  keep  from  smiling  that  a  man  who  was  under  the 
lash  of  the  law  (and  was  indeed  hanged  some  three 
years  later)  should  be  so  nice  as  to  the  descent  of  his 
acquaintances. 


26-4  KIDNAPPED. 

Just  in  tlie  door,  he  met  Alan  coming  in  ;  and  the 
two  drew  back  and  looked  at  each  other  like  strange 
dogs.  They  were  neither  of  them  big  men,  but  they 
seemed  fairly  to  swell  out  with  pride.  Each  wore  a 
sword,  and  by  a  movement  of  his  haunch,  thrust  clear 
the  hilt  of  it,  so  that  it  might  be  the  more  readily 
grasped  and  the  blade  drawn. 

'*Mr.  Stewart,  I  am  thinking,"  says  Robin. 

"  Troth,  Mr.  Macgregor,  it's  not  a  name  to  be  ashamed 
of,"  answered  Alan. 

"I  did  not  know  ye  were  in  my  country,  sir,"  says 
Robin. 

"It  sticks  in  my  mind  that  I  am  in  the  country  of 
my  friends  the  Maclarens,"  says  Alan. 

"  That's  a  kittle  point,''  returned  the  other.  "  There 
may  be  two  words  to  say  to  that.  But  I  think  I  will 
have  heard  that  you  are  a  man  of  your  sword  ?  " 

"  Unless  ye  were  born  deaf,  Mr.  Macgregor,  ye  will 
have  heard  a  good  deal  more  than  that,"  says  Alan.  "  I 
am  not  the  only  man  that  can  draw  steel  in  Appin  ;  and 
when  my  kinsman  and  captain,  Ardsliiel,  had  a  talk 
with  a  gentleman  of  your  name,  not  so  many  years  back, 
I  could  never  hear  that  the  Macgregor  had  the  best 
of  it." 

"  Do  ye  mean  my  father,  sir  ?  "  says  Robin. 

"  Well,  I  wouldnae  wonder,"  said  Alan.  *'  The  gen- 
tleman I  have  in  my  mind  had  the  ill-taste  to  clap 
Campbell  to  his  name." 


KIDNAPPED.  265 

"My  father  was  an  old  man,"  returned  Robin.  ''The 
match  was  unequal.  You  and  me  would  make  a  better 
pair,  sir." 

"  I  was  thinking  that,"  said  Alan. 

I  was  half  out  of  bed,  and  Duncan  had  been  hanging 
at  the  elbow  of  these  fighting  cocks,  ready  to  intervene 
upon  the  least  occasion.  But  when  that  word  was 
uttered,  it  was  a  case  of  now  or  never  ;  and  Duncan, 
with  sometliing  of  a  white  face  to  be  sure,  thrust  him- 
self between. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  will  have  been  thinking 
of  a  very  different  matter,  Avhateffer.  Here  are  my 
pipes,  and  here  are  you  two  gentlemen  who  are  baith 
acclaimed  pipers.  It's  an  auld  dispute  -which  one  of 
ye's  the  best.     Here  will  be  a  braw  chance  to  settle  it." 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Alan,  still  addressing  Robin,  from 
whom  indeed  he  had  not  so  much  as  shifted  his  eves, 
nor  yet  Robin  from  him,  "why,  sir,"  says  Alan,  "I 
think  I  will  have  heard  some  sough  of  the  sort.  Have 
ye  music,  as  folk  say  ?     Are  ye  a  bit  of  a  piper  ?  " 

"  I  can  pipe  like  a  Macrimmon  !  "  cries  Robin. 

"And  that  is  a  very  bold  word,"  quoth  Alan. 

"I  have  made  bolder  words  good  before  now,"  re- 
turned Robin,  "  and  that  against  better  adversaries." 

"It  is  easy  to  try  that,"  says  Alan. 

Duncan  Dhu  made  haste  to  bring  out  the  pair  of 
pipes  that  was  his  principal  possession,  and  to  set  before 
his  guests  a  muttonham  and  a  bottle  of  that  drink  which 


266  KIDNAPPED. 

they  call  Athole  brose,  and  which  is  made  of  old 
whiskey,  strained  honey  and  sweet  cream,  slowly  beaten 
together  in  the  right  order  and  proportion.  The  two 
enemies  were  still  on  the  very  breach  of  a  quarrel  ;  but 
down  they  sat,  one  upon  each  side  of  the  peat  fire,  with 
a  mighty  show  of  politeness.  Maclaren  pressed  them  to 
taste  his  muttonham  and  "  the  wife's  brose,"  reminding 
them  the  wife  was  out  of  Athole  and  had  a  name  far  and 
wide  for  her  skill  in  that  confection.  But  Robin  put 
aside  these  hospitalities  as  bad  for  the  breath. 

"  I  would  have  ye  to  remark,  sir,"  said  Alan,  "that 
I  havenae  broken  bread  for  near  upon  ten  hours,  which 
will  be  worse  for  the  breath  than  any  brose  in  Scot- 
land." 

"  I  will  take  no  advantages,  Mr.  Stewart,"  replied 
Kobiu.     "  Eat  and  drink  ;  I'll  follow  you." 

Each  ate  a  small  portion  of  the  ham  and  drank  a 
glass  of  the  brose  to  Mrs.  Maclaren  ;  and  then,  after  a 
great  number  of  civilities,  Robin  took  the  pipes  and 
played  a  little  spring  in  a  very  ranting  manner. 

**Ay,  ye  can  blow,"  said  Alan;  and  taking  the  in- 
strument from  his  rival,  he  first  played  the  same  spring 
in  a  manner  identical  with  Robin's  ;  and  then  wandered 
into  variations,  which,  as  he  went  on,  he  decorated  with 
a  perfect  flight  of  grace-notes,  such  as  pipers  love,  and 
call  the  ''warblers." 

I  had  been  pleased  with  Robin-'s  playing,  Alan's 
ravished  me. 


KIDNAPPED.  267 

*'  That's  no  very  bad,  Mr.  Stewart,"  said  the  rival, 
"  but  ye  show  a  poor  device  in  your  warbler." 

"Me!"  cried  Alan,  the  blood  starting  to  his  face. 
"I  give  ye  the  lie." 

'"Do  ye  own  yourself  beaten  at  the  pipes,  then," 
said  Robin,  "  that  ye  seek  to  change  them  for  the 
sword  ?  " 

"And  that's  very  well  said,  Mr.  Macgregor,"  returned 
Alan  ;  "and  in  the  meantime"  (laying  a  strong  accent 
on  the  word)  "  I  take  back  the  lie.  I  appeal  to  Dun- 
can." 

"Indeed,  ye  need  appeal  to  naebody,"  said  Robin. 
"Ye're  a  far  better  judge  than  any  Maclaren  in  Bal- 
whidder  :  for  it's  a  God's  truth  that  you're  a  very  cred- 
itable piper  for  a  Stewart.     Hand  me  the  pipes." 

Alan  did  as  he  asked  ;  and  Robin  proceeded  to  imi- 
tate and  correct  some  part  of  Alan's  variations,  which  it 
seemed  that  he  remembered  perfectly. 

"Ay,  ye  have  music,"  said  Alan,  gloomily. 

"And  now  be  the  judge  yourself,  Mr.  Stewart,"  said 
Robin ;  and  taking  up  the  variations  from  the  begin- 
ning, he  worked  them  throughout  to  so  new  a  purpose, 
with  such  ingenuity  and  sentiment,  and  with  so  odd  a 
fancy  and  so  quick  a  knack  in  the  grace-notes,  that  I 
was  amazed  to  hear  him. 

As  for  Alan,  his  face  grew  dark  and  hot,  and  he  sat 
and  gnawed  his  fingers,  like  a  man  under  some  deep 
aifront.      "Enough  !"  he  cried.      "Ye  can  blow  the 


268  KIDNAPPED. 

pipes — make  the  most  of  that."     And  he  made  as  if 
to  rise. 

But  Robin  only  lield  out  his  hand  jis  if  to  ask  for 
silence,  and  struck  into  the  slow  music  of  a  pibroch. 
It  was  a  fine  piece  of  music  in  itself,  and  nobly  played  ; 
but  it  seems  besides  it  was  a  piece  peculiar  to  the  Appin 
Stewarts  and  a  chief  favorite  with  Alan.  The  first 
notes  were  scarce  out,  befoi'c  there  came  a  change  in  his 
face  ;  when  the  time  quickened,  he  seemed  to  grow 
restless  in  his  seat ;  and  long  before  that  piece  was  at 
an  end,  the  last  signs  of  his  anger  died  from  him,  and 
he  had  no  thought  but  for  the  music. 

"  Eobin  Oig,"  he  said,  when  it  was  done,  "ye  are  a 
great  piper.  I  am  not  fit  to  blow  in  the  same  kingdom 
with  ye.  Body  of  me  !  ye  have  mair  music  in  your 
sporran  than  I  have  in  my  head !  And  though  it 
still  sticks  in  my  mind  that  I  could  maybe  show  ye 
another  of  it  with  the  cold  steel,  I  warn  ye  before 
hand — it'll  no  be  fair  !  It  would  go  against  my  heart 
to  haggle  a  man  that  can  blow  the  pipes  as  you 
can  ! " 

Thereupon  the  quarrel  was  made  up  ;  all  night  long 
the  brose  was  going  and  the  pipes  changing  hands  ;  and 
the  day  had  come  pretty  bright,  and  the  three  men  were 
none  the  better  for  what  they  had  been  taking,  before 
Robin  as  much  as  thought  upon  the  road. 

It  was  the  last  I  saw  of  him,  for  I  was  in  the  Low 
Countries  at  the  University  of  Leyden,  when  he  stood 


KIDNAPPED.  269 

his  trial,  and  was  hanged  in  the  Grassmarket.  And  I 
have  told  this  at  so  great  length,  partly  because  it  was 
the  last  incident  of  any  note  that  befell  me  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  Highland  Line,  and  partly  because 
(as  the  man  came  to  be  hanged)  it's  in  a  manner 
history. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

WE     PASS     THE     FORTH. 

The  month,  as  I  have  said,  was  not  yet  out,  but  it 
was  already  far  through  August,  and  beautiful  warm 
weather,  with  every  sign  of  an  early  and  great  harvest, 
when  I  was  pronounced  able  for  my  journey.  Our 
money  was  now  run  to  so  low  an  ebb  that  we  must 
think  first  of  all  on  speed  ;  for  if  we  came  not  soon  to 
Mr.  Eankeillor's,  or  if  when  we  came  there  he  should 
fail  to  help  me,  we  must  surely  starve.  In  Alan's  view, 
besides,  the  hunt  must  have  now  greatly  slackened  ;  and 
the  line  of  the  Forth,  and  even  Stirling  Bridge,  which 
is  the  main  pass  over  that  river,  would  be  watched  with 
little  interest. 

**  It's  a  chief  principle  in  military  affairs,"  said  he, 
"  to  go  where  ye  are  least  expected.  Forth  is  our 
trouble ;  ye  ken  the  saying,  '  Fortli  bridles  the  wild 
Hielandman.'  Well,  if  we  seek  to  creep  round  about 
the  head  of  that  river  and  come  down  by  Kippen  or 
Balf  ron,  it's  just  precisely  there  that  they'll  be  looking  to 
lay  hands  on  us.  But  if  we  stave  on  straight  to  the 
auld  Brig'  of  Stirling,  I'll  lay  my  sword  they  let  us  pass 
unchallenged." 


KIDNAPPED.  271 

The  first  night,  accordingly,  we  pushed  to  the  house 
of  a  Maclaren  in  Strathire,  a  friend  of  Duncan's,  where 
we  slept  the  twenty-first  of  the  month,  and  whence  we 
set  forth  again  about  the  fall  of  night  to  make  another 
easy  stage.  The  twenty-second  we  lay  in  a  heather- 
bush  on  a  hillside  in  Uam  Var,  within  view  of  a  herd  of 
deer,  the  happiest  ten  hours  of  sleep  in  a  fine,  breathing 
sunshine  and  on  bone-dry  ground,  that  I  have  ever 
tasted.  That  night  we  struck  Allan  Water,  and  fol- 
lowed it  down  ;  and  coming  to  the  edge  of  the  hills  saw 
the  whole  Carse  of  Stirling  underfoot,  as  flat  as  a  pan- 
cake, with  the  town  and  castle  on  a  hill  in  the  midst  of 
it,  and  the  moon  shining  on  the  Links  of  Forth. 

'^  Now,"  said  Alan,  "I  kenna  if  ye  care,  but  ye're  in 
your  own  land  again.  We  passed  the  Hieland  Line  in 
the  first  hour  ;  and  now  if  we  could  but  pass  yon  crooked 
water,  we  might  cast  our  bonnets  in  the  air." 

In  Allan  Water,  near  by  where  it  falls  into  the  Forth, 
we  found  a  little  sandy  islet,  overgrown  with  burdock, 
butterbur,  and  the  like  low  plants,  that  would  just  cover 
us  if  we  lay  flat.  Here  it  was  we  made  our  camp, 
within  plain  view  of  Stirling  Castle,  whence  we  could 
hear  the  drums  beat  as  some  part  of  the  garrison 
paraded.  Shearers  worked  all  day  in  a  field  on  one  side 
of  the  river,  and  we  could  hear  the  stones  going  on  the 
hooks  and  the  voices  and  even  the  words  of  the  men 
talking.  It  behoved  to  lie  close  and  keep  silent.  But 
the  sand  of  the  little  isle  was  sun-warm,  the  green  plants 


272  KIDNAPPED. 

gave  us  shelter  for  our  heads,  we  had  food  and  drink  in 
plenty  ;  and  to  crown  all,  we  were  within  sight  of  safety. 

As  soon  as  the  shearers  quit  their  work  and  the 
dusk  began  to  fall,  we  waded  ashore  and  struck  for  the 
Bridge  of  Stirling,  keeping  to  the  fields  and  under  the 
field  fences. 

The  bridge  is  close  under  the  castle  hill,  an  old,  high, 
narrow  bridge  with  pinnacles  along  the  parapet  ;  and 
you  may  conceive  with  how  much  interest  I  looked  upon 
it,  not  only  as  a  place  famous  in  history,  but  as  the  very 
doors  of  salvation  to  Alan  and  myself.  The  moon  was 
not  yet  up  when  we  came  there  ;  a  few  lights  shone 
along  the  front  of  the  fortress,  and  lower  down  a  few 
lighted  windows  in  the  town  ;  but  it  was  all  mighty 
still,  and  there  seemed  to  be  no  guard  upon  the  passage. 

I  was  for  pushing  straight  across ;  but  Alan  was 
more  wary. 

"It  looks  unco'  quiet,"  said  he;  ''but  for  all  that 
we'll  lie  down  here  cannily  behind  a  dyke,  and  make 
sure." 

So  we  lay  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  whiles  whis- 
pering, whiles  lying  still  and  hearing  nothing  earthly 
but  the  washing  of  the  water  on  the  piers.  At  last  there 
came  by  an  old,  hobbling  woman  with  a  crutch  stick; 
who  first  stopped  a  little,  close  to  where  we  lay,  and  be- 
moaned herself  and  the  long  way  she  had  travelled  ;  and 
then  si't  forth  again  up  the  steep  spring  of  the  bridge. 
The  woman  was  so  little,  and  the  night  still  so  dark. 


KIDNAPPED.  273 

that  we  soon  lost  sight  of  lier  ;  only  heard  the  sound  of 
her  steps,  and  her  stick,  and  a  cough  that  she  had  by 
fits,  draw  slowly  further  away. 

''She's  bound  to  be  across  now,''  I  whispered. 

"Na,"  said  Alan,  "her  foot  still  sounds  boss*  upon 
the  bridge." 

And  just  then—' '  Who  goes  ?  "  cried  a  voice,  and  we 
heard  the  butt  of  a  musket  rattle  on  the  stones.  I  must 
suppose  the  sentry  had  been  sleeping,  so  that  had  we 
tried,  we  might  have  passed  unseen  ;  but  he  was  awake 
now,  and  the  chance  forfeited. 

"This  '11  never  do,"  said  Alan.  "This  '11  never, 
never  do  for  us,  David." 

And  without  anotiier  word,  he  began  to  crawl  away 
through  the  fields  ;  and  a  little  after,  being  well  out  of 
eye-shot,  got  to  his  feet  again,  and  struck  along  a  road 
that  led  to  the  eastward.  I  could  not  conceive  what  he 
was  doing  ;  and  indeed  I  was  so  sharply  cut  by  the  dis- 
appointment, that  I  was  little  likely  to  be  pleased  with 
anything.  A  moment  back,  and  I  had  seen  myself 
knocking  at  Mr.  Rankeillor's  door  to  claim  my  inheri- 
tance, like  a  hero  in  a  ballad  ;  and  here  was  I  back 
again,  a  wandering,  hunted  blackguard,  on  the  wrong 
side  of  Forth. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  I. 

"Well,"  said  Alan,  "  what  would  ye  have  ?     They're 

none  such  fools  as  I  took  them  for.     We  have  still  the 

*  Hollow. 
18 


274  KIDNAPPED. 

Forth  to  pass,  Davie — weary  fall  the  rains  that  fed  and 
the  hillsides  that  guided  it !  " 

''And  why  go  east  ?"  said  I. 

*'0u,  just  upon  the  chance  !"  said  he.  "If  we  can- 
nae  pass  the  river,  we'll  have  to  see  what  we  can  do  for 
the  firth." 

''There  are  fords  upon  the  river,  and  none  upon  the 
firth,"  said  I. 

"To  be  sure  there  are  fords,  and  a  bridge  forbye," 
quoth  Alan;  "and  of  what  service,  when  they  are 
watched  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  but  a  river  can  be  swum." 

"  By  them  that  have  the  skill  of  it,"  returned  he ; 
"but  I  have  yet  to  hear  that  either  you  or  me  is  much 
of  a  hand  at  that  exercise ;  and  for  my  own  part,  I  swim 
like  a  stone." 

"I'm  not  up  to  you  in  talking  back,  Alan,''  I  said; 
"but  I  can  see  we're  making  bad  worse.  If  it's  hard 
to  pass  a  river,  it  stands  to  reason  it  must  be  worse  to 
pass  a  sea." 

"  But  there's  such  a  thing  as  a  boat,"  says  Alan,  "or 
I'm  the  more  deceived." 

"Ay,  and  such  a  thing  as  money,"  says  I.  "But 
for  us  that  have  neither  one  nor  other,  they  might  just 
as  well  not  have  been  invented." 

"  Ye  think  so  ?  "  said  Alan, 

"  I  do  that,"  said  I. 

"  David,"  says  he,  "  ye're  a  man  of  small  invention 


KIDNAPPED.  275 

and  less  faith.  But  let  me  set  mj  wits  upon  the  hone, 
and  if  I  cannae  beg,  borrow,  nor  yet  steal  a  boat,  I'll 
make  one  ! " 

"  I  think  I  see  ye  ! "  said  I.  '"  And  what's  more  than 
all  that  :  if  ye  pass  a  bridge,  it  can  tell  no  tales  ;  but  if 
we  pass  the  firth,  there's  the  boat  on  the  wrong  side — 
somebody  must  have  brought  it — the  countryside  will 
all  be  in  a  bizz " 

"  Man  ! "  cried  Alan,  "  if  I  make  a  boat,  I'll  make  a 
body  to  take  it  back  again  !  So  deave  me  with  no  more 
of  your  nonsense,  but  walk  (for  that's  what  you've  got 
to  do) — and  let  Alan  think  for  ye. " 

All  night,  then,  we  walked  through  the  north  side  of 
the  Carse  under  the  high  line  of  the  Ochil  mountains  ; 
and  by  Alloa  and  Clackmannan  and  Culross,  all  of 
which  we  avoided  ;  and  about  ten  in  the  morning, 
mighty  hungry  and  tired,  came  to  the  little  clachan  of 
Limekilns.  This  is  a  place  that  sits  near  in  by  the 
waterside,  and  looks  across  the  Hope  to  the  town  of  the 
Queensferry.  Smoke  went  up  from  both  of  these,  and 
from  other  villages  and  farms  upon  all  hands.  The 
fields  were  being  reaped ;  two  ships  lay  anchored,  and 
boats  were  coming  and  going  on  the  Hope.  It  was  al- 
together a  right  pleasant  sight  to  me  ;  and  I  could  not 
take  my  fill  of  gazing  at  these  comfortable,  green,  cul- 
tivated hills  and  the  busy  people  both  of  the  field  and 
sea. 

For  all  that,  there  was  Mr.  Rankeillor's  house  on  the 


276  KIDNAPPED. 

south  shore,  where  I  had  no  doubt  wealth  awaited  me ; 
and  here  was  I  upon  tlie  north,  clad  in  poor  enough 
attire  of  an  outlandish  fashion,  with  three  silver  shil- 
lings left  to  me  of  all  my  fortune,  a  price  set  upon  my 
head,  and  an  outlawed  man  for  my  sole  company. 

''0,  Alan!  "said  I,  'Uo  think  of  it!  Over  there, 
there's  all  that  heart  could  want  waiting  me ;  and  the 
birds  go  over,  and  the  boats  go  over — all  that  })lease  can 
go,  but  just  me  only  !     0,  man,  but  it's  a  heartbreak  !  " 

In  Limekilns  we  entered  a  small  change-house,  which 
we  only  knew  to  be  a  public  by  the  wand  over  the  door, 
and  bought  some  bread  and  cheese  from  a  good-looking 
lass  that  was  the  servant.  This  we  carried  vvitii  us  in  a 
bundle,  meaning  to  sit  and  eat  it  in  a  bush  of  wood  on 
the  sea-shore,  that  we  saw  some  third  part  of  a  mile  in 
front.  As  we  went,  I  kept  looking  across  the  water 
and  sighing  to  myself  ;  and  though  I  took  no  heed  of  it, 
Alan  had  fallen  into  a  muse.  At  last  he  stopped  in  the 
way. 

"^Did  ye  take  heed  of  the  lass  we  bought  this  of?" 
says  he,  tapping  on  the  bread  and  cheese. 

"To  be  sure,''  said  T,  "and  a  bonny  lass  she  was." 

"Ye  thought  that  ?  "  cries  he.  "  Man  D;ivid,  that's 
good  news." 

"  In  the  name  of  all  that's  wonderful,  why  so  ?  "  says 
I.     "  What  good  can  that  do  ?  " 

"Well,''  said  Alan,  with  one  of  his  droll  looks,  "I 
was  rather  in  hopes  it  would  maybe  get  us  that  boat." 


KIDNAPPED.  277 

"If  it  were  the  other  way  about,  it  would  be  liker 
it,"  said  I. 

''That's  all  that  you  ken,  ye  see,"  said  Alan.  ''I 
don't  want  the  lass  to  fall  in  love  with  ye,  I  want  her  to 
be  sorry  for  ye,  David ;  to  which  end,  there  is  no  man- 
ner of  need  that  she  should  take  you  for  a  beauty.  Let 
me  see  "  (looking  me  curiously  over).  "  I  wish  ye  were 
a  wee  thing  paler  ;  but  apart  from  that  ye'll  do  fine  for 
my  purpose — ye  have  a  fine,  hang-dog,  rag-and-tatter, 
clappermaclaw  kind  of  a  look  to  ye,  as  if  ye  had  stolen 
the  coat  from  a  potato-bogle.  Come  ;  right  about,  and 
back  to  the  change-house  for  that  boat  of  ours." 

I  followed  him  laughing. 

"David  Balfour,"  said  he,  "  ye're  a  very  funny 
gentleman  by  your  way  of  it,  and  this  is  a  very  funny 
employ  for  ye,  no  doubt.  For  all  that,  if  ye  have  any 
affection  for  my  neck  (to  say  nothing  of  your  own)  ye 
will  perhaps  be  kind  enough  to  take  this  matter  respon- 
sibly. I  am  going  to  do  a  bit  of  play-acting,  the  bottom 
ground  of  which  is  just  exactly  as  serious  as  the  gallows 
for  the  pair  of  us.  So  bear  it,  if  ye  please,  in  mind, 
and  conduct  yourself  according." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  I,  "  have  it  as  you  will." 

As  we  got  near  the  clachan,  he  made  me  take  his  arm 
and  hang  upon  it  like  one  almost  helpless  with  weari- 
ness ;  and  by  the  time  he  pushed  open  the  change-house 
door,  he  seemed  to  be  half  carrying  me.  The  maid 
appeared    surprised    (as   well    she    might   be)   at    our 


278  KIDNAPPED. 

speedy  return  ;  but  Alan  had  no  words  to  spare  for  her 
in  explanation,  helped  me  to  a  chair,  called  for  a  tass  of 
brandy  with  which  be  fed  me  in  little  sips,  and  then 
breaking  up  the  brea*'  and  cheese  helped  me  to  eat  it 
like  a  nursery-lass  ;  the  whole  with  that  grave,  con- 
cerned, affectionate  c<  mtenance,  that  might  have  im- 
posed upon  a  judge.  It  was  small  wonder  if  the  maid 
were  taken  witb  the  picture  we  presented,  of  a  poor, 
sick,  overwrought  lad  and  his  most  tender  comrade. 
She  drew  quite  near,  and  stood  leaning  with  her  back 
on  the  next  table. 

''  What's  like  wrong  with  him  ?"  said  she  at  last. 

Alan  turned  upon  her,  to  my  great  wonder,  with  a 
kind  of  fury.  "Wrong?"  cries  he.  "He's  walked 
more  hundreds  of  miles  than  he  has  hairs  upon  his 
chin,  and  slept  oftener  in  wet  heather  than  dry  sheets. 
Wrong,  quo'  she  !  Wrong  enough,  I  would  think  ! 
Wrong,  indeed  !  "  and  he  kept  grumbling  to  himself,  as 
he  fed  me,  like  a  man  ill-pleased. 

"  He's  young  for  the  like  of  that,"  said  the  maid. 

"  Ower  young,"  said  Alan,  with  his  back  to  her. 

"He  would  be  better  riding,"  says  she. 

"And  where  could  I  get  a  horse  for  him  ?"  cried 
Alan,  turning  on  her  with  the  same  appearance  of  fury. 
"  Would  ye  have  me  steal  ?  " 

I  thought  this  roughness  would  have  sent  her  off  in 
dudgeon,  as  indeed  it  closed  her  mouth  for  the  time. 
But  my  companion  knew  very  well  what  he  was  doing ; 


KIDNAPPED.  279 

and  for  as  simple  as  he  was  in  some  things  of  life,  had 
a  great  fund  of  roguishness  in  such  affairs  as  these. 

''Ye  neednae  tell  me,"  she  said  at  last — "ye're 
gentry. " 

"  Well,"  said  Alan,  softened  a  little  (I  believe  against 
his  will)  by  this  artless  comment,  "and  suppose  we 
were  ?  did  ever  you  hear  that  gentrice  put  money  in 
folk's  pockets  ?  " 

She  sighed  at  this,  as  if  she  were  herself  some  disin- 
herited great  lady.  "No,"  says  she,  "that's  true  in- 
deed." 

I  was  all  this  while  chafing  at  the  part  I  played,  and 
sitting  tongue-tied  between  shame  and  merriment ;  but 
somehow  at  this  I  could  hold  in  no  longer,  and  bade 
Alan  let  me  be,  for  I  was  better  already.  My  voice 
stuck  in  my  throat,  for  I  ever  hated  to  take  part  in  lies  ; 
but  my  very  embarrassment  helped  on  the  plot,  for  the 
lass  no  doubt  set  down  my  husky  voice  to  sickness  and 
fatigue. 

"  Has  he  nae  friends  ?  "  said  she,  in  a  tearful  voice. 

"That  has  he  so,"  cried  Alan,  "if  we  could  but  win 
to  them  ! — friends  and  rich  friends,  beds  to  lie  in,  food 
to  eat,  doctors  to  see  him — and  here  he  must  tramp  in 
the  dubs  and  sleep  in  the  heather  like  a  beggarman." 

"  And  why  that  ?"  says  the  lass. 

"My  dear,"  says  Alan,  "I  cannae  very  safely  say; 
but  I'll  tell  ye  what  I'll  do  instead,"  says  he,  "I'll 
whistle  ye  a  bit  tune."     And  with  that  he  leaned  pretty 


280  KIDNAPPED, 

far  over  the  table,  and  in  a  mere  breath  of  a  whistle,  but 
with  a  wonderful  pretty  sentiment,  gave  her  a  few  bars 
of  "  Charlie  is  my  darling." 

"  Wheesht,"  says  she,  and  looked  over  her  shoulder  to 
the  door. 

"That's  it,"  said  Alan. 

"  And  him  so  young  !  "  cried  the  lass. 

''He's  old  enough  to "and  Alan  struck  his  fore- 
finger on  the  back  part  of  his  neck,  nieuuiiig  that  I  was 
old  enougii  to  lose  my  head. 

"It  would  be  a  black  shame,"  she  cried,  flushing 
high. 

"It's  what  will  be,  though,"  said  Alan,  "unless  we 
manage  the  better." 

At  this  the  lass  turned  and  ran  out  of  that  part  of  the 
house,  leaving  us  alone  together,  Alan  in  high  good 
humour  at  the  furthering  of  his  schemes,  and  I  in  bitter 
dudgeon  at  being  called  a  Jacobite  and  treated  like  a 
child. 

"Alan,"  I  cried,  "I  can  stand  no  more  of  this." 

"  Ye'll  have  to  sit  it  then,  Davie,"  said  he.  "  For  if 
ye  upset  the  pot  now,  ye  may  scra])e  your  own  life  out 
of  the  fire,  but  Alan  Breck  is  a  dead  man." 

This  was  so  true  that  I  could  only  groan  ;  and  even 
my  groan  served  Alan's  purpose,  for  it  was  overheard  by 
the  lass  as  she  came  flying  in  again  with  a  dish  of  white 
puddings  and  a  bottle  of  strong  ale. 

"  Poor  lamb  ! "  says  she,  and  had  no  sooner  set  the 


KIDNAPPED.  281 

meat  before  us,  than  she  touched  me  on  the  shoulder 
with  a  little  friendly  touch,  as  much  as  to  bid  me  cheer 
up.  Then  she  told  us  to  fall  to,  and  there  would  be  no 
more  to  pay  ;  for  the  inn  was  her  own,  or  at  least  her 
father's,  and  he  was  gone  for  the  day  to  Pittencrieff. 
We  waited  for  no  second  bidding,  for  bread  and  cheese 
is  but  cold  comfort,  and  the  puddings  smelt  excellently 
well ;  and  while  we  sat  and  ate,  she  tooii  up  that  same 
place  by  the  next  table,  looking  on,  and  thinking,  and 
frowning  to  herself,  and  drawing  the  string  of  her  apron 
through  her  hand. 

"  I'm  thinking  ye  have  rather  a  long  tongue,"  she 
said  at  last  to  Alan. 

"Ay,"  said  Alan;  "but  ye  see  I  ken  the  folk  I 
speak  to." 

"  I  would  never  betray  ye,"  said  she,  "  if  ye  mean 
that." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  ye're  not  that  kind.  But  I'll  tell 
ye  what  ye  would  do,  ye  would  help." 

"  1  couldnae,"  said  she,  shaking  her  head.  "  Na,  I 
couldnae." 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  but  if  ye  could  ?  " 

She  answered  him  nothing. 

**Look  here,  my  lass,"  said  Alan,  "there  are  boats 
in  the  kingdom  of  Fife,  for  I  saw  two  (no  less)  upon 
the  beach,  as  I  came  in  by  your  town's  end.  Now  if 
we  could  have  the  use  of  a  boat  to  pass  under  cloud  of 
night  into  Lothian,  and  some  secret,  decent  kind  of  a 


282  KIDNAPPED. 

man  to  bring  that  boat  back  again  and  keep  his  council, 
there  would  be  two  souls  saved — mine  to  all  likelihood 
— his  to  a  dead  surety.  If  we  lack  that  boat,  we  have 
but  three  shillings  left  in  this  wide  world  ;  and  where 
to  go,  and  how  to  do,  and  what  other  place  there  is  for 
us  except  the  chains  of  a  gibbet— 1  give  you  my  naked 
word,  I  kenna  !  Sliall  we  go  wanting,  lassie  ?  Are  ye 
to  lie  in  your  warm  bed  and  think  upon  us,  when  the 
wind  gowls  in  the  chimney  and  the  rain  tirls  on  the 
roof  ?  Are  ye  to  eat  your  meat  by  the  cheeks  of  a  red 
fire,  and  think  upon  this  poor  sick  lad  of  mine,  biting 
his  finger-ends  on  a  blae*muir  for  cauld  and  hunger  ? 
Sick  or  sound,  he  must  aye  be  moving ;  with  the  death- 
grapple  at  his  throat,  he  must  aye  be  trailing  in  the  rain 
on  the  long  roads ;  and  when  he  gants  his  last  on  a 
rickle  of  cauld  stanes,  there  will  be  nae  friends  near  him 
but  only  me  and  God." 

At  this  appeal,  I  could  see  the  lass  was  in  great 
trouble  of  mind,  being  tempted  to  help  us,  and  yet  in 
some  fear  she  might  be  helping  malefactors  ;  and  so  now 
I  determined  to  step  in  myself  and  to  allay  her  scruples 
with  a  portion  of  the  truth. 

"Did  you  ever  hear,"  said  I,  "of  Mr.  Rankeillor  of 
the  Queensferry  ?  " 

"  Rankeillor  the  writer  ? "  said  she.  *'  I  daursay 
that  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  it's  to  his  door  that  I  am  bound, 
so  you  may  judge  by  that  if  I  am  an  ill-doer ;  and  I  will 


KIDNAPPED.  283 

tell  you  more,  that  though  I  am  indeed,  by  a  dreadful 
error,  in  some  peril  of  my  life.  King  George  has  no 
truer  friend  in  all  Scotland  than  myself." 

Her  face  cleared  up  mightily  at  this,  although  Alan's 
darkened. 

''That's  more  than  I  would  ask,"  said  she.  "Mr. 
Kankeillor  is  a  kennt  man."  And  she  bade  us  finish  our 
meat,  get  clear  of  the  Clachan  as  soon  as  mightbe,  and 
lie  close  in  the  bit  wood  on  the  sea-beach.  "And  ye 
can  trust  me,"  says  she,  "I'll  find  some  means  to  put 
you  over." 

At  this  we  waited  for  no  more,  but  shook  hands 
with  her  upon  the  bargain,  made  short  work  of  the 
puddings,  and  set  forth  again  from  Limekilns  as  far  as 
to  the  wood.  It  was  a  small  piece  of  perhaps  a  score  of 
elders  and  hawthorns,  and  a  few  young  ashes,  not  thick 
enough  to  veil  us  from  passers-by  upon  the  road  or 
beach.  Here  we  must  lie,  however,  making  the  best  of 
the  brave  warm  weather  and  the  good  hopes  we  now 
had  of  a  deliverance,  and  planning  more  particularly 
what  remained  for  us  to  do. 

We  had  but  one  trouble  all  day  :  when  a  strolling 
piper  came  and  sat  in  the  same  wood  with  us ;  a  red- 
nosed,  blear-eyed,  drunken  dog,  with  a  great  bottle  of 
whiskey  in  his  pocket,  and  a  long  story  of  wrongs  that 
had  been  done  him  by  all  sorts  of  persons,  from  the 
Lord  President  of  the  Court  of  Session  who  had  denied 
him  justice,  down  to  the  Baillies  of  Inverkeithing  who 


284  KIDNAPPED. 

had  given  him  more  of  it  than  he  desired.  It  was  im- 
possible but  he  should  conceive  some  suspicion  of  two 
men  lying  all  day  concealed  in  a  thicket  and  having  no 
business  to  allege.  As  long  as  he  stayed  there,  he  kept 
us  in  hot  water  with  prying  questions  ;  and  after  he  was 
gone,  as  he  was  a  man  not  very  likely  to  hold  his 
tongue,  we  were  in  the  greater  impatience  to  be  gone 
ourselves. 

The  day  came  to  an  end  with  the  same  brightness ; 
the  night  fell  quiet  and  clear  ;  lights  came  out  in  houses 
and  hamlets  and  then,  one  after  another,  began  to  be 
put  out  ;  but  it  was  past  eleven,  and  we  were  long  since 
strangely  tortured  with  anxieties,  before  we  heard  the 
grinding  of  oars  upon  the  rowing-pins.  At  that,  we 
looked  out  and  saw  the  lass  herself  coming  rowing  to  us 
in  a  boat.  She  had  trusted  no  one  with  our  affairs,  not 
even  her  sweetheart,  if  she  had  one  ;  but  as  soon  as  her 
father  was  asleep,  had  left  the  house  by  a  window,  stolen 
a -neighbour's  boat,  and  come  to  our  assistance  single- 
handed. 

I  was  abashed  how  to  find  expression  for  my  thanks  ; 
but  she  was  no  less  abashed  at  the  thought  of  hearing 
them  ;  begged  us  to  lose  no  time  and  to  hold  our  peace, 
saying  (very  properly)  that  the  heart  of  our  matter  was 
in  haste  and  silence ;  and  so,  what  with  one  thing  and 
another,  she  had  set  us  on  the  Lothian  shore  not  far 
from  Carriden,  had  shaken  hands  with  us,  and  was  out 
again  at   sea  and   rowing  for   Limekilns,  before  there 


KIDNAPPED.  285 

was  one  word  said  either  of  her  service  or  our  grati- 
tude. 

Even  after  she  was  gone  we  had  nothing  to  say,  as 
indeed  nothing  was  enough  for  such  a  kindness.  Only 
Ahm  stood  a  great  while  upon  the  shore  shaking  his 
head. 

"It  is  a  very  fine  lass,"  he  said  at  last.  "  David,  it 
is  a  very  fine  lass.*'  And  a  matter  of  an  hour  later,  as 
we  were  lying  in  a  den  on  the  seashore  and  I  had  been 
already  dozing,  he  broke  out  again  in  commendations  of 
her  character.  For  my  part,  I  could  say  nothing,  she 
was  so  simple  a  creature  that  my  heart  smote  me  both 
with  remorse  and  fear  ;  i-emorse,  because  we  had  traded 
upon  her  ignorance  ;  and  fear,  lest  we  sliould  have  any- 
way involved  her  in  the  dangers  of  our  situation. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

I     COME    TO    MR.   RANKEILLOR. 

The  next  day  it  was  agreed  that  Alan  should  fend  for 
himself  till  sunset  ;  but  as  soon  as  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
he  should  lie  in  the  fields  by  the  roadside  near  to  New- 
halls,  and  stir  for  naught  until  he  heard  me  whistling. 
At  first,  I  proposed  I  should  give  him  for  a  signal  the 
"Bonnie  House  of  Airlie,"  which  was  a  favourite  of  mine; 
but  he  objected  that  as  the  piece  was  very  commonly 
known,  any  ploughman  might  whistle  it  by  accident ; 
and  taught  me  instead  a  little  fragment  of  a  Highland 
air,  which  has  run  in  my  head  from  that  day  to  this, 
and  will  likely  run  in  my  head  when  I  lie  dying.  Every 
time  it  comes  to  me  it  takes  me  off  to  that  last  day  of 
my  uncertainty,  with  Alan  sitting  up  in  the  bottom  of 
the  den,  whistling  and  beating  the  measure  with  a  finger, 
and  the  gray  of  the  dawn  coming  on  his  face. 

I  was  in  the  long  street  of  Queensferry  before  the  sun 
was  up.  It  was  a  fairly  built  burgh,  the  houses  of  good 
stone,  many  slated  ;  the  town-hall  not  so  fine,  I  thought, 
as  that  of  Peebles,  nor  yet  the  street  so  noble  ;  but  take 
it  altogether,  it  put  me  to  shame  for  my  foul  tatters. 

As  the  morning  went  on,  and  the  fires  began  to  be 


KIDNAPPED.  287 

kindled,  and  the  windows  to  open,  and  the  people  to 
appear  out  of  the  houses,  my  concern  and  despondency 
grew  ever  the  blacker.  I  saw  now  that  I  had  no 
grounds  to  staud  upon  ;  and  no  clear  proof  of  my  rights, 
nor  so  much  as  of  my  own  identity.  If  it  was  all  a 
bubble,  I  was  indeed  sorely  cheated  and  left  in  a  sore 
pass.  Even  if  things  were  as  I  conceived,  it  would  in 
all  likelihood  take  time  to  establish  my  contentions  ; 
and  what  time  had  I  to  spare  with  three  shillings  in  my 
pocket,  and  a  condemned,  hunted  man  upon  my  hands 
to  ship  out  of  the  country  ?  Truly,  if  my  hope  broke 
with  me,  it  might  come  to  the  gallows  yet  for  both  of 
us.  And  as  I  continued  to  walk  up  and  down,  and  saw 
people  looking  askance  at  me  upon  the  street  or  out  of 
windows,  and  nudging  or  speaking  one  to  another  with 
smiles,  I  began  to  take  fresh  apprehension  ;  that  it 
might  be  no  easy  matter  even  to  come  to  speech  of  the 
lawyer,  far  less  to  convince  him  of  my  story. 

For  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  muster  up  the  courage 
to  address  any  of  these  reputable  burghers ;  I  thought 
shame  even  to  speak  with  them  in  such  a  pickle  of  rags 
and  dirt ;  and  if  I  had  asked  for  the  house  of  such  a 
man  as  Mr.  Rankeillor,  I  supposed  they  would  have 
burst  out  laughing  in  my  face.  So  I  went  up  and 
down,  and  through  the  street,  and  down  to  the  har- 
bour-side, like  a  dog  that  has  lost  its  master,  with  a 
strange  gnawing  in  my  inwards,  and  every  now  and 
then  a  movement  of  despair.     It  grew  to  be  high  day  at 


288  KIDNAPPED. 

last,  perhaps  nine  in  the  forenoon  ;  and  I  was  worn  with 
these  wanderings,  and  chanced  to  have  stopped  in  front 
of  a  very  good  honse  on  the  landward  side,  a  house  with 
beautiful,  clear  glass  windows,  flowering  knots  upon 
the  sills,  the  walls  new-harled,*  and  a  chase-dog  sitting 
yawning  on  the  step  like  one  that  was  at  home.  Well, 
I  was  even  envying  this  dumb  brute,  when  the  door 
fell  open  and  there  issued  forth  a  little  shrewd,  ruddy, 
kindly  consequential  man  in  a  well-powdered  wig  and 
spectacles.  I  was  in  such  a  plight  that  no  one  set  eyes 
on  me  once,  but  he  looked  at  me  again  ;  and  this  gentle- 
man, as  it  proved,  was  so  much  struck  with  my  poor 
appearance  that  he  came  straight  up  to  me  and  asked 
me  what  I  did. 

I  told  him  I  was  come  to  the  Queeusferry  on  business, 
and  taking  heart  of  grace,  asked  him  to  direct  me  to  the 
house  of  Mr.  Rankeillor. 

'MVhy,"  said  he,  "  that  is  his  house  that  I  have  just 
come  out  of  ;  and  for  a  rather  singular  chance,  I  am 
that  very  man." 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  I,  ''I  have  to  beg  the  favour  of  an 
interview." 

"  I  do  not  know  your  name,"  said  he,  ''  nor  yet  your 
face." 

"  My  name  is  David  Balfour,"  said  I. 

**  David  Balfour  ?"  he  repeated,  in  rather  a  high  tone, 
like  one  surprised.     "  And  where  have  you  come  from, 

*  Newlv  routrli  east. 


KIDNAPPED.  289 

Mr.  David  Balfour  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  me  pretty  drily 
in  the  face. 

"I  have  come  from  a  great  many  strange  places,  sir," 
said  I;  "but  I  think  it  would  be  as  well  to  tell  you 
where  and  how  in  a  more  private  manner." 

He  seemed  to  muse  awhile,  holding  his  lip  in  his 
hand,  and  looking  now  at  me  and  now  upon  the  cause- 
way of  the  street. 

"Yes,"  says  he,  "that  will  be  the  best,  no  doubt." 
And  he  led  me  back  with  him  into  his  house,  cried  out 
to  some  one  whom  I  could  not  see  that  he  would  be 
engaged  all  morning,  and  brought  me  into  a  little  dusty 
chamber  full  of  books  and  documents.  Here  he  sate 
down,  and  bade  me  be  seated ;  though  I  thought  he 
looked  a  little  ruefully  from  his  clean  chair  to  my 
muddy  rags.  "And  now,"  says  he,  "if  you  have  any 
business,  pray  be  brief  and  come  swiftly  to  the  point. 
ISlec  germino  helium  Trojanum  orditur  ah  ovo — do  you 
understand  that  ?  "  says  he,  with  a  keen  look. 

"  I  will  even  do  as  Horace  says,  sir,"  I  answered, 
smiling,  "and  carry  you  in  medias  res."  He  nodded 
as  if  he  was  well  pleased,  and  indeed  his  scrap  of  Latin 
had  been  set  to  test  me.  For  all  that,  and  though  I 
was  somewhat  encouraged,  the  blood  came  in  my  face 
when  I  added  :  "I  have  reason  to  believe  myself  some 
rights  on  the  estate  of  Shaws." 

He  got  a  paper  book  out  of  a  drawer  and  set  it  before 
him  open.     "  Well  ?  "  said  he. 
19 


1290  KIDNAPPED. 

13ut  I  had  shot  my  bolt  and  sat  speechless. 

''Come,  come,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said  he,  "you  must 
continue.     Where  were  you  born  ?" 

"  In  Essendean,  sir,"  said  I,  "in  the  year  1734,  the 
12th  of  March." 

He  seemed  to  follow  this  statement  in  his  paper  book  ; 
but  what  that  meant  I  knew  not.  "  Your  father  and 
mother  ?  "  said  he. 

*' My  father  was  Alexander  Balfour,  schoolmaster  of 
that  place,"  said  I,  "and  my  mother  Grace  Pitarrow  ;  I 
think  her  people  were  from  Angus." 

"Have  you  any  papers  proving  your  identity?" 
asked  Mr.  Rankeillor. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  I,  "but  they  are  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Campbell,  the  minister,  and  could  be  readily  produced. 
Mr.  Campbell,  too,  would  give  me  his  word  ;  and  for 
that  matter,  I  do  not  think  my  uncle  would  deny 
me." 

"  Meaning  Mr.  Ebenezer  Balfour  ?  "  says  he. 

"  The  same,"  said  I. 

"  Whom  you  have  seen  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  By  whom  I  was  received  into  his  own  house,"  I 
answered. 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  a  man  of  the  name  of  Hoseason  ?  " 
asked  Mr.  Rankeillor. 

"I  did  so,  sir,  for  my  sins,"  said  I  ;  "for  it  was  by 
his  means  and  tiie  procurement  of  my  uncle,  that  I 
was   kidnapped  within  sight  of    this  town,   carried    to 


KIDNAPPED.  291 

sea,  suffered  shipwreck  and  a  hundred  other  hardships, 
and    stand    before   you    to-day  in  this   poor  accoutre- 
ment." 
j       /        '''You  say  you  were  shipwrecked,"  said  Rankeillor  ; 
"  where  was  that  ?  " 

"Off  the  south  end  of  the  Isle  of  Mull,"  said  I. 
"The  name  of  the  isle  on  which  I  was  cast  up  is  the 
Island  Earraid." 

''Ah  !"  said  he  smiling,  "you  are  deeper  than  rae 
in  the  geography.  But  so  far,  I  may  tell  you,  this 
agrees  pretty  exactly  with  other  informations  that 
I  hold.  But  you  say  you  were  kidnapped  ;  in  what 
sense  ?  " 

"In  the  plain  meaning  of  the  word,  sir,"  said  I. 
"  1  was  on  my  way  to  your  house,  when  I  was  trepanned 
on  board  the  brig,  cruelly  struck  down,  thrown  below, 
and  knew  no  more  of  anything  till  v^e  were  far  at  sea. 
I  was  destined  for  the  plantations  ;  a  fate  that,  in  God's 
providence,  I  have  escaped." 

"  The  brig  was  lost  on  June  the  27th,"  says  he,  look- 
ing in  his  book,  "and  we  are  now  at  August  the  24th. 
Here  is  a  considerable  hiatus,-  Mr.  Balfour,  of  near 
upon  two  months.  It  has  already  caused  a  vast  amount 
of  trouble  to  your  friends  ;  and  I  own  I  shall  not  be 
very  well  contented  until  it  is  set  right." 

"Indeed,  sir,"  said  I,  "these  months  are  very  easily 
filled  up  ;  but  yet  before  I  told  my  story,  I  would  be 
glad  to  know  that  I  was  talking  to  a  friend." 


292  KIDNAPPED. 

^'This  is  to  argue  in  a  circle,"  said  the  lawyer.  "I 
cannot  be  convinced  till  I  have  heard  you.  I  cannot  be 
your  friend  until  I  am  properly  informed.  If  you  were 
more  trustful,  it  would  better  befit  your  time  of  life. 
And  you  know,  Mr.  Balfour,  we  have  a  proverb  in  the 
country  that  evildoers  are  aye  evil-dreaders." 

''You  are  not  to  forget,  sir,"  said  T,  "that  I  have 
already  suffered  by  my  trustfulness  ;  and  was  shipped 
off  to  be  a  slave  by  the  very  man  that  (if  I  rightly  under- 
stand) is  your  employer." 

All  this  while  I  had  been  gaining  ground  with  Mr. 
Kankeillor,  and  in  proportion  as  I  gained  ground, 
gaining  confidence.  But  at  this  sally,  which  I  made 
with  something  of  a  smile  myself,  he  fairly  laughed 
aloud. 

"No,  no,"  said  he,  "it  is  not  so  bad  as  that.  Fui, 
non  sum.  I  w«s  indeed  your  uncle's  man  of  business ; 
but  while  you  [imherMs  juvenis  custode  remoto)  were 
gallivanting  in  the  west,  a  good  deal  of  water  has  run 
under  the  bridges  ;  and  if  your  ears  did  not  sing,  it  was 
not  for  lack  of  being  talked  about.  On  the  very  day  of 
your  sea  disaster,  Mr.  Campbell  stalked  into  my  office, 
demanding  you  from  all  the  winds.  I  had  never  heard 
of  your  existence ;  but  I  had  known  your  father  ;  and 
from  matters  in  my  competence  (to  be  touched  upon 
hereafter)  I  was  disposed  to  fear  the  worst.  Mr.  Eben- 
ezer  admitted  having  seen  you  ;  declared  (what  seemed 
improbable)  that  he  had  given  you  considerable  sums  ; 


KIDNAPPED,  293 

and  that  yon  had  started  for  the  continent  of  Europe, 
intending  to  fulfil  your  education,  which  was  probable 
and  praiseworthy.  Interrogated  how  you  had  come  to 
send  no  word  to  Mr.  Campbell,  he  deponed  that  you  had 
expressed  a  great  desire  to  break  with  your  past  life. 
Farther  interrogated  where  you  now  were,  protested 
ignorance,  but  believed  you  were  in  Leyden.  That  is  a 
close  sum  of  his  replies.  I  am  not  exactly  sure  that  any 
one  believed  him,"  continued  Mr.  Eankeillor  with  a 
smile  ;  "  and  in  particular  he  so  much  disrelished  some 
expressions  of  mine  that  (in  a  word)  he  showed  me  to 
the  door.  We  were  then  at  a  full  stand  ;  for  whatever 
shrewd  suspicions  we  might  entertain,  we  had  no  shadow 
of  probation.  In  the  very  article,  comes  Captain  Ho- 
season  with  the  story  of  your  drowning  ;  whereupon  all 
fell  through  ;  with  no  consequences  but  concern  to  Mr. 
Campbell,  injury  to  my  pocket,  and  another  blot  upon 
your  uncle's  character,  which  could  very  ill  afEord  it. 
And  now,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said  he,  "you  understand  the 
whole  process  of  these  matters,  and  can  judge  for  your- 
self to  what  extent  I  may  be  trusted." 

Indeed  he  was  more  pedantic  than  I  can  represent 
him,  and  placed  more  scraps  of  Latin  in  his  speech  ;  but 
it  was  all  uttered  with  a  fine  geniality  of  eye  and  manner 
which  went  far  to  conquer  my  distrust.  Moreover,  I 
could  see  he  now  treated  me  as  if  I  was  myself  beyond 
a  doubt ;  so  that  first  point  of  my  identity  seemed  fully 
granted. 


294  Kl  PNAPPED. 

"Sir/"  said  I,  "if  I  Icll  you  my  story,  I  must  com- 
mit a  friend's  life  to  yonr  discretion.  Pass  me  your 
word  it  shall  be  sacred  ;  and  for  what  touches  myself,  I 
will  ask  no  better  guarantee  than  just  your  face." 

He  passed  me  his  word  very  seriously.  "But,"  said 
he,  "these  are  rather  alarming  prolocutions ;  and  if 
there  are  in  your  story  any  little  jostles  to  the  law,  I 
would  beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  that  I  am  a  lawyer,  and 
pass  lightly." 

Thereupon  I  told  him  my  story  from  the  first,  he  lis- 
tening with  his  spectacles  thrust  up  and  his  eyes  closed, 
so  that  I  sometimes  feared  he  was  asleep.  But  no  such 
matter  !  he  heard  every  word  (as  I  found  afterward) 
with  such  quickness  of  hearing  and  precision  of  memory 
as  often  surprised  me.  Even  strange,  outlandish  Gaelic 
names,  heard  for  that  time  only,  he  remembered  and 
would  remind  me  of  years  after.  Yet  when  I  called 
Alan  Breck  in  full,  we  had  an  odd  scene.  The  name  of 
Alan  had  of  course  rung  through  Scotland,  with  the 
news  of  the  Appin  murder  and  the  offer  of  the  reward  ; 
and  it  had  no  sooner  escaped  me  than  the  lawyer  moved 
in  his  seat  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"I  would  name  no  unnecessary  names,  Mr.  Balfour," 
said  he  ;  "above  all  of  Highlanders,  many  of  whom  are 
obnoxious  to  the  law." 

"Well,  it  might  have  been  better  not,"  said  I ;  "but 
since  I  have  let  it  slip,  I  may  as  well  continue." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Rankeillor.     "I  am  somewhat 


KIDNAPPED.  295 

dull  of  heiiring,  as  you  may  have  remarked  ;  and  I  am 
far  from  sure  I  caught  the  name  exactly.  We  will  call 
your  friend,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Thomson — that  there 
mav  be  no  reflections.  And  in  future,  I  would  take 
some  such  way  with  any  Highlander  that  you  may  have 
to  mention — dead  or  alive." 

By  this,  I  saw  he  must  have  heard  the  name  all  too 
clearly  and  had  already  guessed  I  might  be  coming  to 
the  murder.  If  he  chose  to  play  this  part  of  ignorance, 
it  was  no  matter  of  mine  ;  so  I  smiled,  said  it  was  no 
very  Highland  sounding  name,  and  consented.  Through 
all  the  rest  of  my  story  Alan  was  Mr.  Thomson  ;  which 
amused  me  the  more,  as  it  was  a  piece  of  policy  after 
his  own  heart.  James  Stewart,  in  like  manner,  was 
mentioned  under  the  style  of  Mr.  Thomson's  kinsman ; 
Colin  Campbell  passed  as  a  Mr.  Glen  ;  and  to  Cluny, 
when  I  came  to  that  part  of  my  tale,  I  gave  the  name  of 
*'Mr.  Jameson,  a  Highland  chief."  It  was  truly  the 
most  open  farce,  and  I  wondered  that  the  lawyer  should 
care  to  keep  it  up  ;  but  after  all  it  was  quite  in  the  taste 
of  that  age,  when  there  were  two  parties  in  the  state, 
and  quiet  persons,  with  no  very  high  opinions  of  their 
own,  sought  out  every  cranny  to  avoid  offence  to 
either. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  lawyer,  when  I  had  quite 
done,  "  this  is  a  great  epic,  a  great  Odyssey  of  yours. 
You  must  tell  it,  sir,  in  a  sound  Latinity  when  your 
scholarship  is  riper  ;  or  in  English,  if  you  please,  though 


296  kii):napped. 

for  my  part  I  prefer  the  stronger  tongne.  Yon  have 
rolled  mnch  ;  qum  regio  in  terris — uiiat  parish  in  Scot- 
land (to  make  a  homely  translation)  has  not  been  filled 
with  your  wanderings  ?  You  have  shown  besides  a 
singular  aptitude  for  getting  into  false  positions  ;  and, 
yes,  upon  the  whole,  for  behaving  well  in  tlicin.  This 
Mr.  Thomson  seems  to  me  a  gentleman  of  some  choice 
qualities,  though  perhaps  a  trifle  bloody-minded.  It 
would  please  me  none  the  worse,  if  (with  all  his  merits) 
he  were  soused  in  the  North  Sea;  for  the  man,  Mr. 
David,  is  a  sore  embarrassment.  But  you  are  doubtless 
quite  right  to  adhere  to  him  ;  indubitably,  he  adhered  to 
you.  It  comes — we  may  say — he  was  your  true  com- 
panion ;  nor  less,  paribus  curis  vestigia  fig  it,  for  I  dare- 
say you  would  both  take  an  orra  thought  upon  the  gal- 
lows. Well,  well,  these  days  are  fortunately  by  ;  and  I 
think  (speaking  humanly)  that  you  are  near  the  end  of 
your  troubles." 

As  he  thus  moralized  on  my  adventures,  he  looked 
upon  me  with  so  much  humour  and  benignity  that  I 
could  scarce  contain  my  satisfaction.  I  had  been  so 
long  wandering  with  lawless  people,  and  making  my 
bed  upon  the  hills  and  under  the  bare  sky,  that  to  sit 
once  more  in  a  clean,  covered  house,  and  to  talk  ami- 
cably with  a  gentleman  in  broadcloth,  seemed  migiity 
elevations.  Even  as  I  thought  so,  my  eye  fell  on  my 
unseemly  tatters,  and  I  was  once  more  plunged  in  con- 
fusion.    But  the  lawyer  saw  and  understood  me.     He 


KIDNAPPED.  297 

rose,  called  over  the  stair  to  lay  another  plate,  for  Mr. 
Balfour  would  stay  to  dinner,  and  led  me  into  a  bed- 
room in  the  upper  part  of  the  house.  Here  he  set  be- 
fore me  water  and  soap  and  a  oomb  ;  and  laid  out  some 
clothes  that  belonged  to  his  son  ;  and  here,  with  another 
apposite  tag,  he  left  me  to  my  toilet. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

T    GO    IlSr    QUEST   OF    MY    INHERITANCE. 

Here  I  made  what  change  I  could  in  mj  appearance ; 
and  blithe  was  I  to  look  in  the  glass  and  find  the  beggar- 
man  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  David  Balfour  come  to 
life  again.  And  yet  I  was  ashamed  of  the  change,  too, 
and  above  all,  of  the  borrowed  clothes.  When  I  had 
done,  Mr.  Rankcillor  caught  me  on  the  stair,  made  me 
his  compliments,  and  had  me  again  into  the  cabinet. 

'•' Sit  ye  down,  Mr.  David,"  said  he,  "and  now  that 
you  are  looking  a  little  more  like  yourself,  let  me  see  if  I 
can  find  you  any  news.  You  will  be  wondering,  no 
doubt,  about  your  father  and  your  uncle  ?  To  be  sure, 
it  is  a  singular  tale  ;  and  the  explanation  is  one  that  I 
blush  to  have  to  offer  you.  For,"  says  he,  really  with 
embarrassment,   ''the  matter  hinges  on  a  love  affair." 

"  Tiiily,"  said  I,  "  I  cannot  very  well  join  that  notion 
with  my  uncle." 

"  But  your  uncle,  Mr.  David,  was  not  always  old," 
replied  the  lawyer,  "  and  what  may  perhaps  surprise  you 
more,  not  always  ugly.  He  had  a  fine,  gallant  air  ; 
people  stood  in  their  doors  to  look  after  him,  as  he  went 
by  upon  a  mettle  horse.     I  have  seen  it  with  these  eyes. 


KIDNAPPED.  299 

and  I  ingenuously  confess,  not  altogether  without  envy  ; 
for  I  was  a  plain  lad  myself  and  a  plain  man's  son  ;  and 
in  those  days,  it  was  a  case  of  Odi  te,  qui  bellus  cs, 
SabelU:' 

*'It  sounds  like  a  dream,"  said  I. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  the  lawyer,  ''that  is  how  it  is  with 
youth  and  age.  Nor  was  that  all,  but  he  had  a  spirit  of 
his  own  that  seemed  to  jjromise  great  things  in  the 
future.  In  1715,  what  must  he  do  but  run  away  to  join 
the  rebels  ?  It  was  your  father  that  pursued  him, 
found  him  in  a  ditch,  and  brought  him  back  muitum 
gemetis  ;  to  the  mirth  of  the  whole  country.  However, 
majora  canamus — the  two  lads  fell  in  love,  and  that 
with  the  same  lady.  Mr.  Ebenezer,  who  was  the  ad- 
mired and  the  beloved,  and  the  spoiled  one,  made,  no 
doubt,  mighty  certain  of  the  victory  ;  and  when  he 
found  he  had  deceived  himself,  screamed  like  a  pea- 
cock. The  whole  country  heard  of  it  ;  now  he  lay  sick 
at  home,  with  his  silly  family  standing  round  the  bed  in 
tears  ;  now  he  rode  from  public-house  to  public-house 
and  shouted  his  sorrows  into  the  lug  of  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry.  Your  father,  Mr.  David,  was  a  kind  gentleman  ; 
but  he  was  weak,  dolefully  weak  ;  took  all  this  folly  with 
a  long  countenance  ;  and  one  day — by  your  leave  ! —  re- 
signed the  lady.  She  was  no  such  fool,  however  ;  it's 
from  her  you  must  inherit  your  excellent  good  sense  ; 
and  she  refused  to  be  bandied  from  one  to  another.  Both 
got  upon  their  knees  to  her  ;    and  the  upshot  of  the 


800  KIDNAPPED. 

matter  for  that  while,  was  that  she  showed  hoth  of  them 
the  door.  That  was  in  August ;  dear  me  !  the  same  year 
I  came  from  college.  The  scene  must  have  been  highly 
farcical. " 

I  thought  myself  it  was  a  silly  business,  but  I  could 
not  forget  my  father  had  a  liand  in  it.  "  Surely,  sir,  it 
had  some  note  of  tragedy,"  said  I. 

"  Why,  no,  sir,  not  at  all,"  returned  the  lawyer.  "For 
tragedy  implies  some  ponderable  matter  in  dispute,  some 
dignus  vindice  nodus  ;  and  this  piece  of  work  was  all 
about  the  petulance  of  a  young  ass  that  had  been 
spoiled,  and  wanted  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  tied  up 
and  soundly  belted.  However,  that  was  not  your  father's 
view  ;  and  the  end  of  it  was,  that  from  concession  to 
concession  on  your  father's  part,  and  from  one  height  to 
another  of  squalling,  sentimental  selfishness  upon  your 
uncle's,  they  came  at  last  to  drive  a  sort  of  bargain,  from 
whose  ill-results  you  have  recently  been  smarting.  The 
one  man  took  the  lady,  the  other  the  estate.  Now,  Mr. 
David,  they  talk  a  great  deal  of  charity  and  generosity  ; 
but  in  this  disputable  state  of  life,  I  often  think  the  hap- 
piest consequences  seem  to  flow  when  a  gentleman  con- 
sults his  lawyer  and  takes  all  the  law  allows  him.  Any- 
how, this  piece  of  Quixotry  upon  your  father's  part,  as 
it  was  unjust  in  itself,  has  brought  forth  a  monstrous 
family  of  injustices.  Your  father  and  mother  lived  and 
died  poor  folk  ;  you  were  poorly  reared  ;  and  in  tlie 
meanwhile,  what  a  time  it  has  been  for  the  poor  tenants 


KIDNAPPED.  301 

on  the  estate  of  Shaws  !  And  I  might  add  (if  it  was 
a  matter  I  cared  much  about)  what  a  time  for  Mr. 
Ebenezer  ! " 

"And  yet  that  is  certainly  the  strangest  part  of  all," 
said  I,  "  that  a  man's  nature  should  thus  change." 

"True,"  said  Mr.  Eankeillor.  "And  yet  I  imagine 
it  was  natural  enough.  He  could  not  think  that  he  had 
played  a  handsome  part.  Those  who  knew  the  story 
gave  him  the  cold  shoulder  ;  those  who  knew  it  not,  see- 
ing one  brother  disappear,  and  the  other  succeed  in  the 
estate,  raised  a  cry  of  murder  ;  so  that  upon  all  sides,  he 
found  himself  evited.  Money  was  all  he  got  by  his  bar- 
gain ;  well,  he  came  to  think  the  more  of  money.  He 
was  selfish  when  he  was  young,  he  is  selfish  now  that  he 
is  old ;  and  the  latter  end  of  all  these  pretty  manners 
and  fine  feelings  you  have  seen  for  yourself." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  I,  **and  in  all  this,  what  is  my  posi- 
tion ?  " 

"  The  estate  is  yours  beyond  a  doubt,"  replied  the 
lawyer.  "  It  matters  nothing  what  your  father  signed, 
you  are  the  heir  of  entail.  But  your  uncle  is  a  man  to 
fight  the  indefensible  ;  and  it  would  be  likely  your  iden- 
tity that  he  would  call  in  question.  A  lawsuit  is  always 
expensive,  and  a  family  lawsuit  always  scandalous ; 
besides  which,  if  any  of  your  doings  with  your  friend 
Mr.  Johnson  were  to  come  out,  we  might  find  that  we 
had  burned  our  fingers.  The  kidnapping,  to  be  sure, 
would  be  a  court  card  upon  our  side,  if  we  could  only 


302  KIDNAPPED. 

prove  it.  But  it  may  be  difficult  to  prove  ;  and  my  ad- 
vice (upon  the  whole)  is  to  make  a  very  easy  bargain 
with  your  uncle,  perhaps  even  leaving  him  at  Shaws 
where  he  has  taken  root  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and 
contenting  yourself  in  the  meanwhile  with  a  fair  pro- 
vision. 

I  told  him  I  was  very  willing  to  be  easy,  and  that 
to  carry  family  concerns  before  the  public  was  a  step 
from  which  I  was  naturally  much  averse.  In  the  mean- 
time (thinking  to  myself)  I  began  to  see  the  outlines  of 
that  scheme  on  which  we  afterwards  acted. 
»  *' The  great  affair,"  I  asked,  "is  to  bring  home  to 
him  the  kidnapping  ?  " 

**  Surely,"  said  Mr.  Rankeillor,  ''  and  if  possible,  out 
of  court.  For  mark  you  here,  Mr.  David,  we  could 
no  doubt  find  some  men  of  the  Covenant  who  would 
swear  to  your  reclusion  ;  but  ond*e  they  were  in  the  box, 
we  could  no  longer  check  their  testimony,  and  some  word 
of  your  friend  Mr.  Thomson  must  certainly  crop  out. 
Which  (from  what  you  have  let  fall)  I  cannot  think  to 
be  desirable." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  I,  "here  is  my  way  of  it."  And 
I  opened  my  plot  to  him. 

"  But  this  would  seem   to   involve   my  meeting  the 
man  Thomson  ?  "  says  he,  when  I  had  done. 
"  I  think  so,  indeed,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Dear  doctor  !  "  cries  he,  rubbing  his  brow.  "  Dear 
doctor  !     No,   Mr.  David,  I  am  afraid  vour  scheme  is 


KIDNAPPED.  303 

inadmissible.  I  say  nothing  against  your  friend  Mr. 
Thomson  ;  I  know  nothing  against  him,  and  if  I  did — 
mark  tliis,  Mr.  David  ! — it  would  be  my  duty  to  lay 
hands  on  him.  Now  I  put  it  to  you  :  is  it  wise  to  meet  ? 
He  may  have  matters  to  his  charge.  He  may  not  have 
told  you  all.  His  name  may  not  be  even  Thomson  !  " 
cries  the  lawyer,  twinkling  ;  "  for  some  of  these  fellows 
will  pick  up  names  by  the  roadside  as  another  would 
gather  haws." 

''  You  must  be  the  Judge,  sir,''  said  I. 

But  it  was  clear  my  plan  had  taken  hold  upon  his 
fancy,  for  he  kept  musing  to  himself  till  we  were  called 
to  dinner  and  the  company  of  Mrs.  Eankeillor  ;  and  that 
lady  had  scarce  left  us  again  to  ourselves  and  a  bottle  of 
wine,  ere  he  was  back  harping  on  my  proposal.  When 
and  where  was  I  to  meet  my  friend  Mr.  Thomson  ;  was 
I  sure  of  Mr.  T.'s  discretion  ;  supposing  we  could  catch 
the  old  fox  tripping,  would  I  consent  to  such  and  such 
a  term  of  an  agreement — these  and  the  like  questions 
he  kept  asking  at  long  intervals,  while  he  thoughtfully 
rolled  his  wine  uj^on  his  tongue.  When  I  had  answered 
all  of  them,  seemingly  to  his  contentment,  he  fell  into  a 
still  deeper  muse,  even  the  claret  being  now  forgotten. 
Then  he  got  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  and  set  to 
work  writing  and  weighing  every  word  ;  and  at  last 
touched  a  bell  and  had  his  clerk  into  the  chamber. 

"Torrance,"  said  he,  "  I  must  have  this  written  out 
fair  against  to-night ;   and  when   it  is  done,  you  will 


304  KIDNAPPED. 

be  so  kind  as  put  on  your  h;it  and  be  ready  to  come 
along  with  this  gentleman  and  me,  for  you  will  probably 
be  wanted  as  a  witness." 

"  What,  sir,"  cried  I,  as  soon  as  the  clerk  was  gone, 
**  are  you  to  venture  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  so  it  would  appear,"  says  he,  filling  his  glass. 
*'  But  let  us  speak  no  more  of  business.  The  very  sight 
of  Torrance  brings  in  my  head  a  little,  droll  matter  of 
some  years  ago,  when  I  had  made  a  tryst  with  the  poor 
oaf  at  the  cross  of  Edinburgh.  Each  had  gone  his 
proper  errand  ;  and  when  it  came  four  o'clock,  Torrance 
had  been  taking  a  glass  and  did  not  know  his  master,  and 
1,  who  had  forgot  my  spectacles,  was  so  blind  without 
them,  that  I  give  you  my  word  I  did  not  know  my  own 
clerk."     And  thereupon  he  laughed  heartily. 

I  said  it  was  an  odd  chance,  and  smiled  out  of  polite- 
ness ;  but  what  held  me  all  the  afternoon  in  wonder,  he 
kept  returning  and  dwelling  on  this  story,  and  telling  it 
again  with  fresh  details  and  laughtei' ;  so  that  I  began 
at  last  to  be  quite  out  of  countenance  and  feel  ashamed 
for  my  friend's  folly. 

Towards  the  time  I  had  appointed  with  Alan,  we  set 
out  from  the  house,  Mr.  Rankeillor  and  I  arm  in  arm, 
and  Torrance  following  bohind  with  the  deed  in  his 
pocket  and  a  covered  basket  iu  his  hand.  All  through 
the  town,  the  lawyer  was  bowing  right  and  left,  and  con- 
tinually being  buttoned-holed  by  gentlemen  on  matters 
of  burgh  or  private  business  ;  and  I  could  sec  he  was  one 


KIDNAPPED. 


305 


greatly  looked  up  to  in  the  country.  At  last  we  were 
clear  of  the  houses,  and  began  to  go  along  the  side  of 
the  haven  and  towards  the  Hawes  Inn  and  the  ferry 
pier,  the  scene  of  my  misfortune.  I  could  not  look  upon 
the  place  without  emotion,  recalling  how  many  that  had 
been  there  with  me  that  day  were  now  no  more  :  Ran- 
some  taken,  I  could  hope,  from  the  evil  to  come  ;  Shuan 
passed  where  I  dare  not  follow  him  ;  and  the  poor  souls 
that  had  gone  down  with  the  brig  in  her  last  plunge. 
All  these,  and  the  brig  herself,  I  had  outlived;  and 
come  through  these  hardships  and  fearful  perils  without 
a  scathe.  My  only  thought  should  have  been  of  grati- 
tude ;  and  yet  I  could  not  behold  the  place  without  sor- 
row for  others  and  a  chill  of  recollected  fear. 

I  was  so  thinking  when,  upon  a  sudden,  Mr.  Ran- 
keillor  cried  out,  clapped  his  hand  to  his  pockets,  and 
began  to  laugh. 

"Why,"  he  cries,  "if  this  be  not  a  farcical  adven- 
ture !    After  all  that  I  said,  I  have  forgot  my  glasses  ! " 
At  that,  of  course,  I  understood  the  purpose  of   his 
anecdote,  and  knew  that  if  he  had  left  his  spectacles  at 
home  it  had  been  done  on  purpose,  so  that  he   might 
have  the  benefit  of  Alan's  help  without  the  awkwardness 
of  recognizing  him.     And  indeed  it  was  well  thought 
upon  ;  for  now   (suppose  things  to  go  the  very  worst) 
how  could  Rankeillor  swear  to  my  friend's  identity,  or 
how  be  made  to  bear  damaging  evidence  against  myself  ? 
For  all  that,  he  had  been  a  long  while  of  finding  out 
20 


306  KIDNAPPED. 

his  want,  and  had  spoken  to  and  recognized  a  good  few 
persons  as  we  came  through  the  town  ;  and  I  had  little 
doubt  myself  that  he  saw  reasonably  well. 

As  soon  as  we  were  past  the  Hawes  (where  I  recog- 
nised the  landlord  smoking  his  pipe  in  the  door,  and 
was  amazed  to  see  him  look  no  older)  Mr.  Eankeillor 
changed  the  order  of  march,  walking  behind  with 
Torrance  and  sending  me  forward  in  the  manner  of  a 
scout.  I  w^ent  up  the  hill,  whistling  from  time  to  time 
my  Gaelic  air ;  and  at  length  I  had  the  pleasure  to  hear 
it  answered  and  to  see  Alan  rise  from  behind  a  bush. 
He  was  somewhat  dashed  in  spirits,  having  passed  a 
long  day  alone  skulking  in  the  county,  and  made  but 
a  poor  meal  in  an  alehouse  near  Dundas.  But  at  the 
mere  sight  of  my  clothes,  he  began  to  brighten  up  ;  and 
as  soon  as  I  had  told  him  in  what  a  forward  state  our 
matters  were,  and  the  part  I  looked  to  him  to  play  in 
what  remained,  he  sprang  into  a  new  man. 

"And  that  is  a  very  good  notion  of  yours,"  says  he; 
''  and  I  dare  to  say  that  you  could  lay  your  hands  upon 
no  better  man  to  put  it  through,  than  Alan  Breck.  It 
is  not  a  thing  (mark  ye)  that  any  one  could  do,  but  takes 
a  gentleman  of  penetration.  But  it  sticks  in  my  head 
your  lawyer-man  will  be  somewhat  wearying  to  see  me," 
says  Alan. 

Accordingly,  I  cried  and  waved  on  Mi".  Eankeillor, 
who  came  up  alone  and  was  presented  to  my  friend,  Mr. 
Thomson. 


KIDNAPPED. 


307 


"  Mr.  Thomson,  I  am  pleased  to  meet  you,"  said  he. 
"  But  I  have  forgotten  my  glasses  ;  and  our  friend, 
Mr.  David  here  "  (clapping  me  on  the  shoulder)  "  will 
tell  you  that  I  am  little  better  than  blind,  and  that  you 
must  not  be  surprised  if  I  pass  you  by  to-morrow." 

This  he  said,  thinking  that  Alan  would  be  pleased  ; 
but  the  Highlandman's  vanity  was  ready  to  startle  at  a 
less  matter  than  that. 

"  Why,  sir,"  says  he,  stiffly,  "  I  would  say  it  mat- 
tered the  less  as  we  are  met  here  for  a  particular  end,  to 
see  justice  done  to  Mr.  Balfour  ;  and  by  what  I  can  see, 
not  very  likely  to  have  much  else  in  common.  But  I 
accept  your  apology,  which  was  a  very  proper  one   to 

make." 

"And  that  is  more  than  I  could  look  for,  Mr.  Thom- 
son," said  Kankeillor,  heartily.  "  And  now  as  you  and 
I  are  the  chief  actors  in  this  enterprise,  I  think  we 
should  come  into  a  nice  agreement  ;  to  which  end,  I 
propose  that  you  should  lend  me  your  arm,  for  (what 
with  the  dusk  and  the  want  of  my  glasses)  I  am  not 
very  clear  as  to  the  path  ;  and  as  for  you,  Mr.  David, 
you  will  find  Torrance  a  pleasant  kind  of  body  to  speak 
with.  Only  let  me  remind  you,  it's  quite  needless  he 
should  hear  more  of  your  adventures  or  those  of — ahem 
— Mr.  Thomson." 

Accordingly,  these  two  went  on  ahead  in  very  close 
talk,  and  Torrance  and  I  brought  up  the  rear. 

Night  was  quite  come  when  we  came  in  view  of  the 


308  KIDNAPPED. 

house  of  Shaws.  Ten  had  been  gone  some  time  ;  it  was 
dark  and  mild,  with  a  pleasant,  rustling  wind  in  the 
south-west  that  covered  the  sound  of  our  approach  ;  and 
as  we  drew  near  we  saw  no  glimmer  of  light  in  any 
portion  of  the  building.  It  seemed  my  uncle  was  already 
in  bed,  which  was  indeed  the  best  thing  for  our  arrange- 
ments. We  made  our  last  whispered  consultations  some 
fifty  yards  away  ;  and  then  the  lawyer  and  Torrance  and 
I  crept  quietly  up  and  crouched  down  beside  the  corner 
of  the  house  ;  and  as  soon  as  we  were  in  our  places, 
Alan  strode  to  the  door  without  concealment  and  began 
to  knock. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

I  COME  INTO   MY    KINGDOM. 

For  some  time  Alan  volleyed  upon  the  door,  and  his 
knocking  only  roused  the  echoes  of  the  house  and  neigh- 
bourhood. At  last,  however,  I  could  hear  the  noise  of 
a  window  gently  thrust  up,  and  knew  that  my  uncle 
had  come  to  his  observatory.  By  what  light  there  was, 
he  would  see  Alan  standing,  like  a  dark  shadow,  on  the 
steps  ;  the  three  witnesses  were  hidden  quite  out  of  his 
view  ;  so  that,  in  what  he  saw,  there  was  nothing  to 
alarm  an  honest  man  in  his  own  house.  For  all  that, 
he  studied  his  visitor  awhile  in  silence,  and  when  he 
spoke  his  voice  had  a  quaver  of  misgiving. 

''  What's  this,"  says  he.  ''This  is  nae  kind  of  time 
of  night  for  decent  folk  ;  and  I  hae  nae  trokings  *  wi' 
night-hawks.     What  brings  ye  here  ?    I  have  a  blun- 

derbush." 

-Is  that  yoursel',  Mr.  Balfour?"  returned  Alan, 
stepping  back  and  looking  up  into  the  darkness.  "  Have 
a  care  of  that  blunderbuss;   they're  nasty  things  to 

burst." 

*  Dealings. 


310  KIDNAPPED. 

"  VVhaf,  brings  ye  here  ?  and  whae  are  ye  ?"  says  my 
nncle,  angrily. 

"  I  have  no  manner  of  inclination  to  rowt  out  my 
name  to  the  countryside,"  said  Alan  ;  "  but  wluit  brings 
me  here  is  another  story,  being  more  of  your  affairs  than 
mine  ;  and  if  ye'rc  sure  it's  what  ye  would  like,  I'll  set 
it  to  a  tune  and  sing  it  to  you." 

"  And  what  is't  ?"  asked  my  uncle. 

"  David,"  says  Alan. 

''What  was  that?"  cried  my  uncle,  in  a  mighty 
changed  voice. 

"Shall  I  give  ye  the  rest  of  the  name  then  ?"  said 
Alan. 

There  was  a  pause  ;  and  then,  ''  I'm  thinking  I'll 
better  let  ye  in,"  says  my  uncle,  doubtfully, 

'*  I  daresay  that,"  said  Alan  ;  "  but  the  point  is, 
Would  I  go  ?  Now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  thinking. 
I  am  thinking  that  it  is  here  upon  this  doorstep  that  we 
must  confer  upon  this  business  ;  and  it  shall  be  here  or 
nowhere  at  all  whatever  ;  for  I  would  have  you  to  under- 
stand that  I  am  as  stiff-necked  as  yoursel',  and  a  gentle- 
man of  better  family." 

This  change  of  note  disconcerted  Ebenezer  ;  he  was 
a  little  while  digesting  it ;  and  then  says  he,  "  Weel, 
weel,  what  must  be  must,"  and  shut  the  window.  But 
it  took  him  a  long  time  to  get  down-stairs,  and  a  still 
longer  to  undo  the  fastenings,  repenting  (I  daresay)  and 
taken  with  fresh  claps  of  fear  at  every  second  step  and 


KIDNAPPED. 


311 


every  bolt  and  bar.  At  last,  however,  we  heard  the 
creak  of  the  hinges,  and  it  seems  my  uncle  slipped  gin- 
gerly ont  and  (seeing  that  Alan  had  stepped  back  a  pace 
or  two)  sate  him  down  on  the  top  doorstep  with  the 
blunderbuss  ready  in  his  hands. 

**  And  now,"  says  he,  "  mind  I  have  my  blunderbush, 
and  if  ye  take  a  step  nearer  ye're  as  good  as  deid." 
"  And  a  very  civil  speech,"  says  Alan,^  'Uo  be  sure." 
"Na,"  says  my  uncle,  ''  but  this  is  no  a  very  chancy 
kind  of  a  proceeding,  and  I'm  bound  to  be  prepared. 
And  now  that  we  understand  each  other,  ye'll  can  name 

your  business." 

"Why,"  says  Alan,  "  you  that  are  a  man  of  so  much 
understanding,  will  doubtless  have  perceived  that  I  am 
a  Hieland  gentleman.     My  name  has  nae  business  in 
my  story ;  but  the  county  of  my  friends  is  no  very  far 
from  the  Isle  of  Mull,  of  which  ye  will  have  heard.     It 
seems  there  was  a  ship  lost   in  those  parts  ;   and  the 
next  day  a  gentleman  of  my  family  was  seeking  wreck- 
wood  for  his  fire  along  the  sands,  when  he  came  upon  a 
lad  that  was  half  drowned.     Well,  he  brought  him  to  ; 
and  he  and  some  other  gentlemen  took  and  clapped  him 
in  an  auld,  ruined  castle,  where  from  that  day  to  this 
he  has  been  a  great  expense  to  my  friends.     My  friends 
are  a  wee  wild-like,  and  not  so  particular  about  the  law 
as  some  that  I  could  name  ;  and  finding  that  the  lad 
owned   some  decent  folk,  and  was  your  born  nephew, 
Mr.  Balfour,  they  asked  me  to  give  ye  a  bit  call  and  to 


312  KIDNAPPED. 

confer  upon  the  matter.  And  I  may  tell  ye  at  the  off- 
go,  unless  we  can  agree  upon  some  terms,  ye  are  little 
likely  to  aet  eyes  upon  him.  For  my  friends,"  added 
Alan,  simply,  "are  no  very  well  off." 

My  uncle  cleared  his  throat.  "I'm  no  very  caring," 
says  he.  "  He  wasnae  a  good  lad  at  the  best  of  it,  and 
I've  nae  call  to  interfere." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Alan,  "I  see  what  ye  would  be  at: 
pretending  ye  don't  care,  to  make  the  ransome  smaller." 

"Na,"  said  my  uncle,  "it's  the  mere  truth.  I  take 
nae  manner  of  interest  in  the  lad,  and  I'll  pay  nae  ran- 
some, and  ye  can  make  a  kirk  and  a  mill  of  him  for 
what  I  care." 

"Hoot,  sir,"  says  Alan.  "Blood's  thicker  than 
water,  in  the  deil's  name  !  Ye  cannae  desert  your 
brother's  son  for  the  fair  shame  of  it ;  and  if  ye  did, 
and  it  came  to  be  kennt,  ye  wouldnae  be  very  popular 
in  your  countryside,  or  I'm  the  more  deceived." 

"I'm  no  just  very  popular  the  way  it  is,"  returned 
Ebenezer  ;  "and  I  dinnae  see  how  it  would  come  to  be 
kennt.  No  by  me,  onyway  ;  nor  yet  by  you  or  your 
friends.     So  that's  idle  talk,  my  buckie,"  says  he. 

"Then  it'll  have  to  be  David  that  tells  it,"  said 
Alan. 

"How  that  ?"  says  my  uncle,  sharply. 

"  Ou,  just  this  way,"  says  Alan.  "My  friends  would 
doubtless  keep  your  nephew  as  long  as  there  was  any 
likelihood  of  siller  to  be  made  of  it,  but  if  there  was 


KIDNAPPED.  ^1^ 


nane,  I  am  clearly  of  opinion  they  would  let  him  gang 
where  he  pleased,  and  be  damned  to  him  ! " 

-Ay,  but  I'm  no  very  caring  about  that  either,"  said 
ray  uncle.      ''I  wouldnae  be   muckle   made   up   with 

that." 

"I  was  thinking  that,"  said  Alan. 

-And  what  for  why  ?"  asked  Ebenezer. 

-Why  Mr.  Balfour,"  replied  Alan,  -  by  all  that  I 
could  hear,  there  were  two  ways  of  it :  either  ye  liked 
David  and  would  pay  to  get  him  back ;  or  else  ye  had 
very  good  reasons  for  not  wanting  him,  and  would  pay 
for  us  to  keep  him.  It  seems  it's  not  the  first ;  well 
then,  it's  the  second ;  and  blythe  am  I  to  ken  it,  for  it 
should  be  a  pretty  penny  in  my  pocket  and  the  pockets 

of  my  friends." 

- 1  dinnae  follow  ye  there,"  said  my  uncle. 

-No^"  said  Alan.  -Well,  see  here:  you  dinnae 
want  the  lad  back;  well,  what  do  ye  want  done  with 
him,  and  how  much  will  ye  pay  ?" 

My  uncle  made  no  answer,  but  shifted  uneasily  on  his 

seat. 

-  Come,  sir,"  cried  Alan.  - 1  would  have  ye  to  ken 
that  I  am  a  gentleman  ;  I  bear  a  king's  name ;  I  am 
nae  rider  to  kick  my  shanks  at  your  hall  door.  Either 
give  me  an  answer  in  civility,  and  that  out  of  hand  ;  or 
by  the  top  of  Glencoe,  I  will  ram  three  feet  of  iron 
through  your  vitals." 

-Eh,  man,"  cried  my  uncle,  scrambling  to  his  teet. 


31-1  KIDNAPPED. 

"  give  Die  a  meenit  !  What's  like  wrong  with  ye  ?  I'm 
just  a  plain  man,  and  nae  dancing-master  ;  and  I'm 
trying  to  be  as  ceevil  as  it's  morally  possible.  As  for 
tbat  wild  talk,  it's  fair  disrepitable.  Vitals,  says  you  ! 
and  where  would  I  be  with  my  blundcrbush  ?  "  he  snarled. 

"  Powder  and  your  aiild  hands  are  but  as  the  snail  to 
the  swallow  against  the  bright  steel  in  the  hands  of 
Alan,"  said  the  other.  "  Before  your  jottering  finger 
could  find  the  trigger,  the  hilt  would  dirl  on  your  breast- 
bane.  " 

"Eh,  man,  whae's  denying  it?"  said  my  uncle. 
"  Pit  it  as  ye  please,  hae't  your  ain  way  ;  I'll  do  nae- 
thing  to  cross  ye.  Just  tell  me  what  like  ye'U  be  want- 
ing, and  ye'll  see  that  we'll  can  agree  fine." 

'*  Troth,  sir,"  said  Alan,  "I  ask  for  nothing  but 
plain  dealing.  In  two  words  :  do  ye  want  the  lad  killed 
or  kept  ?  " 

"0,  sirs  !"  cried  Ebenezer.  ''  0,  sirs,  me  !  that's  no 
kind  of  language  !  " 

"  Killed  or  kept  ?  "  repeated  Alan. 

"0  keepit,  keepit  !"  wailed  my  uncle.  ''We'll  have 
nae  bloodshed,  if  you  please." 

"■  Well,"  says  Alan,  "  as  ye  please  ;  that'll  be  the 
dearer. " 

"  The  dearer  ?"  cries  Ebenezer.  "  Would  ye  fyle  your 
hands  wi'  crime  ?  " 

"  Hoot  !  "  said  Alan,  "  they're  baith  crime,  whatever  ! 
And  the  killing's  easier,  and  quicker,  and  surer.     Keep- 


KIDNAPPED.  ^^^ 

ing  the  lad'U  be  a  fashions*  job,  a  fashions,  kittle  bnsi- 


ness 


-I'll  have  him  keepit,  thongh,"  retnrned  my  nncle. 
-I  never  had  naething  to  do  with  anything  morally 
wrong  ;  and  I'm  no  gann  to  begin  to  pleasure  a  wild 

Hielaudman." 

'' Ye're  unco  scrupulous,"  sneered  Alan. 

-I'm  a  man  o'  principle,"  said  Ebenezer  simply; 
-and  if  I  have  to  pay  for  H,  I'll  have  to  pay  for  it. 
And  besides,"  says  he,  -ye  forget  the  lad's  my  brother  s 


son" 


-Well,  well,"  said  Alan,  "and  now  about  the  price. 
It's  no  very  easy  for  me  to  set  a  name  upon  it ;  I  would 
first  have  to  ken  some  small  matters.     I  would  have  to 
ken,  for  instance,  what  ye  gave  Hoseason  at  the  first  off- 
go  ^" 

-  Hoseason  ?  "  cries  my  uncle,  struck  aback.    "  What 

for  ?  " 

-For  kidnapping  David,"  says  Alan. 

-  It's  a  lee,  it's  a  black  lee !  "  cried  my  uncle.  -  He 
was  never  kidnapped.  He  leed  in  his  throat  that  tauld 
ye  that.     Kidnapped?    He  never  was!"  ^ 

-That's  no  fault  of  mine  nor  yet  of  yours,  said 
Alan;  -nor  yet  of  Hoseason's,  if  he's  a  man  that  can 

be  trusted." 

-  What  do  ye  mean  ?  "  cried  Ebenezer  ;  -  did  Hoseason 

tell  ye  ?  " , 

'  *  Troublesome. 


316  KIDNAPPED. 

"Why,  ve  donnercd  iiuld  runt,  how  else  would  I 
ken  ?"  cried  Alan.  '•  Hoseason  and  I  are  partners;  we 
gang  shares ;  so  ye  can  see  for  yoursel',  what  good  ye 
can  do  leeing.  And  I  must  plainly  say  ye  drove  a  fool's 
bargain  when  ye  let  a  man  like  the  sailor-man  so  far 
forward  in  your  private  matters.  But  that's  past  pray- 
ing for  ;  jind  ye  must  lie  on  your  bed  the  way  ye  made  it. 
And  the  point  in  hand  is  Just  this  :  what  did  ye  pay  him?  " 

"  Has  he  tauld  ye  himsel'  ?  "  asked  my  uncle. 

**  That's  my  concern,"  said  Alan. 

"  Weel,"  said  my  uncle,  "1  dinnae  care  what  he  said, 
he  leed,  and  the  solemn  God's  truth  is  this,  that  I  gave 
him  twenty  pound.  But  I'll  be  perfec'ly  honest  with 
ye  :  forby  that,  he  was  to  have  the  selling  of  the  lad  in 
Caroliny,  whilk  would  be  as  muckle  mair,  but  no  from 
my  pocket,  ye  see." 

''  Thank  you,  Mr.  Thomson.  That  will  do  excellently 
well,"  said  the  lawyer,  stepping  forward ;  and  then 
mighty  civilly,  "Good  evening,  Mr.  Balfour,"  said  he. 

And,  *'Good  evening,  Uncle  Ebenezer,"  said  I. 

And  ''It's  a  braw  nicht,  Mr.  Balfour,"  added  Tor- 
rance. 

Never  a  word  said  my  uncle,  neither  black  nor  white ; 
but  just  sat  where  he  was  on  the  top  doorstep  and  stared 
upon  us  like  a  man  turned  to  stone.  Alan  filched  away 
his  blunderbuss ;  and  the  lawyer,  taking  him  by  the 
arm,  plucked  him  up  from  tlie  doorstep,  led  him  into 
the  kitchen,  whither  we  all  followed,  and  set  him  down 


KIDNAPPED.  ^1' 


in  a  chair  beside  the  hearth,  where  the  fire  was  out  and 
only  a  rushlight  burning. 

There  we  all  looked  upon  him  for  awhile,  exulting 
greatly  in  our  success,  but  yet  with  a  sort  of  pity  for 

the  man's  shame. 

-Come,  come,  Mr.  Ebenezer,"  said  the  lawyer,  ''you 
must  not  be  down-hearted,  for  I  promise  you  we  shall 
make  easy  terms.     In  the  meanwhile  give  us  the  cellar 
key  and  Torrance  shall  draw  us  a  bottle  of  your  father's 
wine  in  honour  of  the  event."     Then,  turning  to  me 
and  taking  me  by  the  hand,  -Mr.  David,"  says  he,  -I 
wish  you  all  joy  in  your  good  fortune,  which  I  believe 
to  be  deserved."     And  then  to  Alan,  with  a  spice  of 
drollery,  -Mr.  Thomson,  I  pay  you  my  compliment;  it 
was  most  artfully  conducted  ;    but  in   one  point  you 
somewhat  outran  my  comprehension.     Do  I  understand 
yoar  name  to  be  James  ?  or  Charles  ?  or  is  it  George, 

perhaps?"  .       , 

"And  why  should   it  be   any  of  the   three,   sir? 
quoth  Alan,  drawing  himself  up,  like  one  who  smelt  an 

offence.  ^, 

-  Only,  sir,  that  you  mentioned  a  king's  name,  re- 
plied Rankeillor  ;  "and  as  there  has  never  yet  been  a 
Kin-  Thomas,  or  his  fame  at  least  has  never  come  my 
way,  I  judged  you  must  refer  to  that  you  had  in  bap- 
tism." 

This  was  just  the  stab  that  Alan  would  feel  keenest, 
and  I  am  free  to  confess  he  took  it  very  ill.    Not  a  word 


318  KIDNAPPED. 

would  he  answer,  but  stept  off  to  tlie  far  end  of  the 
kitchen,  and  sat  down  and  snlked  ;  and  it  was  not  till  I 
stepped  after  him,  and  gave  him  my  hand,  and  thanked 
him  by  title  as  the  chief  spring  of  my  success,  that  he 
began  to  smile  a  bit,  and  was  at  last  prevailed  upon  to 
join  our  party. 

By  that  time  we  had  the  fire  lighted,  and  a  bottle  of 
wine  uncorked  ;  a  good  supper  came  out  of  the  basket, 
to  which  Torrance  and  I  and  Alan  set  ourselves  down  ; 
while  the  lawyer  and  my  uncle  passed  into  the  next 
chamber  to  consult.  They  stayed  there  closeted  about 
an  hour  ;  at  the  end  of  which  period  they  had  come  to 
a  good  understanding,  and  my  uncle  and  I  set  our  hands 
to  the  agreement  in  a  formal  manner.  By  the  terms  of 
this,  my  uncle  was  confirmed  for  life  in  the  possession 
of  the  house  and  lands  ;  and  bound  himself  to  satisfy 
Rankeillor  as  to  his  intromissions,  and  to  pay  me  two 
clear  thirds  of  tlie  yearly  income. 

So  the  beggar  in  the  ballad  had  come  home  ;  and  when 
I  lay  down  that  night  on  the  kitchen  chests,  I  was  a 
man  of  means  and  had  a  name  in  the  country.  Alan 
and  Torrance  and  Rankeillor  slept  and  snored  on  their 
hard  beds  ;  but  for  me,  who  had  lain  out  under  heaven 
and  upon  dirt  and  stones,  so  many  days  and  nights,  and 
often  with  an  empty  belly,  and  in  fear  of  death,  tiiis 
good  change  in  my  case  unmanned  me  more  than  any  of 
the  former  evil  ones ;  and  I  lay  till  dawn,  looking  at  the 
fire  on  the  roof  and  planning  the  future. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

GOOD-BYE. 

So  far  as  I  was  concerned  myself,  I  had  come  to  port; 
but  I  had  still  Alan,  to  whom  I  was  so  much  beholden, 
on  my  hands  ;  and  I  felt  besides  a  heavy  charge  in  the 
matter  of  the  murder  and  James  of  the  Glens.     On  both 
these  heads  I  unbosomed  to  Kankeillor  the  next  morn- 
ing, walking  to  and  fro  about  six  of  the  clock  before  the 
house  of  Shaws,  and  with  nothing  in  view  but  the  fields 
and  woods  that  had  been  my  ancestors'  and  were  now 
mine.     Even  as  I  spoke  on  these  grave  subjects,  my  eye 

would  take  a  glad  bit  of  a  run  over  the  prospect,  and 

my  heart  jump  with  pride. 

About  my  clear  duty  to  my  friend,  the  lawyer  had  no 

doubt  ;  I  must  help  him  out  of  the  county  at  whatever 

risk  ;  but  in  the  case  of  James,  he  was  of  a  different 

mind. 

''  Mr.  Thomson,"  says  he,  "  is  one  thing,  Mr.  Thom- 
son's kinsman  quite  another.  I  know  little  of  the  facts  ; 
but  I  gather  that  a  great  noble  (whom  we  will  call,  if 
you  like,  the  D.  of  A.)  *  has  some  concern  and  is  even 
supposed  to  feel  some  animosity  in  the  matter.  The 
D.  of  A.  is  doubtlessari^^xcglentuohlema^  hut,  Mr. 
*  The  Duke  of  Argyll. 


320  KIDNAPPED. 

David,  timeo  qui  7iocere  deos.  If  you  interfere  to  baulk 
his  vengeance,  you  should  remember  there  is  one  way  to 
sluit  your  testimony  out  ;  and  that  is  to  put  you  in 
the  dock.  There,  you  would  be  in  the  same  pickle 
as  Mr.  Thomson's  kinsman.  You  will  object  that  you 
are  innocent  ;  well,  but  so  is  he.  And  to  be  tried  for 
your  life  before  a  Highland  jury,  on  a  Highland  quar- 
rel, and  with  a  Highland  judge  upon  the  bench,  would 
be  a  brief  transition  to  the  gallows." 

Now  I  had  made  all  these  reasonings  before  and 
found  no  very  good  reply  to  them  ;  so  I  put  on  all  the 
simplicity  I  could.  ''In  that  case,  sir,"  said  I,  ''I 
would  just  have  to  be  hanged — would  I  not  ?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  cries  he,  '*go  in  God's  name,  and  do 
what  you  think  is  right.  It  is  a  poor  thought  that  at 
my  time  of  life  I  should  be  advising  you  to  choose  the 
safe  and  shameful ;  and  I  take  it  back  with  an  apology. 
Go  and  do  your  duty  ;  and  be  hanged,  if  you  must,  like 
a  gentleman.  There  are  worse  things  in  the  world  than 
to  be  hanged.'' 

"Not  many,  sir,"  said  I,  smiling. 

"Why,  yes,  sir,"  lie  cried,  "very  many.  And  it 
would  be  ten  times  better  for  your  uncle  (to  go  no  fur- 
ther afield)  if  he  were  dangling  decently  upon  a  gibbet." 

Thereupon  he  turned  into  the  house  (still  in  a  great 
fervour  of  mind,  so  that  I  saw  I  had  pleased  him  heart- 
ily) and  there  he  wrote  me  two  letters,  making  his  com- 
ments on  them  as  he  wrote. 


KIDNAPPED.  321 

"This,"  says  he,  "is  to  my  bankers,  the  British 
Linen  Company,  placing  a  credit  to  your  name.  Con- 
sult Mr.  Thomson  ;  he  will  know  of  ways  ;  and  you, 
with  this  credit,  can  supply  the  means.  I  trust  you 
will  be  a  good  husband  of  your  money  ;  but  in  the 
affair  of  a  friend  like  Mr.  Thomson,  I  would  be  even 
prodigal.  Then,  for  his  kinsman,  there  is  no  better 
way  than  that  you  should  seek  the  Advocate,  tell  him 
your  tale,  and  offer  testimony  ;  whether  he  may  take  it 
or  not,  is  quite  another  matter,  and  will  turn  on  the  D. 
of  A.  Now  that  you  may  reach  the  Lord  Advocate 
well  recommended,  I  give  you  here  a  letter  to  a  name- 
sake of  your  own,  the  learned  Mr.  Balfour  of  Pilrig,  a 
man  whom  I  esteem.  It  will  look  better  that  you  should 
be  presented  by  one  of  your  own  name  ;  and  the  laird  of 
Pilrig  is  much  looked  up  to  in  the  Faculty  and  stands 
well  with  Lord  Advocate  Grant.  I  would  not  trouble 
him,  if  I  were  you,  with  any  particulars ;  and  (do  you 
know  ?)  I  think  it  would  be  needless  to  refer  to  Mr. 
Thomson.  Form  yourself  upon  the  laird,  he  is  a  good 
model ;  when  you  deal  with  the  Advocate,  be  discreet ; 
and  in  all  these  matters,  may  the  Lord  guide  you,  Mr. 
David  ! " 

Thereupon  he  took  his  farewell,  and  set  out  with 
Torrance  for  the  Ferry,  while  Alan  and  I  turned  our 
faces  for  the  city  of  Edinburgh.  As  we  went  by  the 
footpath  and  beside  the  gateposts  and  the  unfinished 
lodge,  we  kept  looking  back  at  the  house  of  my  fatiiers. 
21 


322  KIDNAPPED. 

It  stood  there,  bare  iiiul  great  aifd  smokeless,  like  a  place 
not  lived  in  ;  only  in  one  of  the  top  windows,  there  was 
the  peak  of  a  nightcap  bobbing  up  and  down  and  back 
and  forward,  like  the  head  of  a  rabbit  from  a  burrow. 
I  had  little  welcome  when  I  came,  and  less  kindness 
while  I  sta3^ed  ;  but  at  least  I  was  watched  as  I  wont 
away. 

In  the  meanwhile  Alan  and  I  went  slowly  forward 
upou  our  way,  having  little  heart  either  to  walk  or 
speak.  The  saiue  thought  was  uppermost  in  l)oth,  tliat 
we  were  near  the  time  of  our  parting  ;  and  remembrance 
of  all  the  bygone  days  sate  upon  us  sorely.  AVo  talked 
indeed  of  what  should  bo  done  ;  and  it  was  resolved  that 
Alan  should  keep  to  the  county,  biding  now  hero,  now 
there,  but  coming  once  in  a  day  to  a  particular  place 
where  I  might  be  able  to  communicate  with  him,  either 
in  my  own  person  or  by  messenger.  In  the  meanwhile, 
I  was  to  seek  out  a  lawyer,  who  was  an  Appin  Stewart, 
and  a  man  therefore  to  be  wholly  trusted  ;  and  it  should 
be  his  part  to  find  a  ship  and  to  arrange  for  Alan's  safe 
embarcation.  No  sooner  was  this  business  done,  than 
the  words  seemed  to  leave  us  ;  and  though  I  would  sock 
lo  jest  with  Alan  under  the  name  of  Mr.  Thomson, 
and  he  with  me  on  my  new  clothes  and  my  estate,  you 
could  feel  very  well  that  we  wore  nearer  tears  than 
laughter. 

We  came  the  b3'-way  over  the  hill  of  Corstorphine; 
and  when  we  got  near  to  the  place  called  Rest-and-be- 


KIDXAPPED.  323 

Thankfiil,  and  looked  down  on  Corstorphine  bogs  and 
over  to  the  city  and  the  castle  on  the  hill,  we  both 
stopped,  for  we  both  knew,  without  a  word  said,  that  we 
had  come  to  where  our  ^ravs  parted.  Here  he  repeated 
to  me  once  again  what  had  been  agreed  upon  between 
us  :  the  address  of  the  lawyer,  the  daily  hour  at  which 
Alan  might  be  found,  and  the  signals  that  were  to  be 
made  by  any  that  came  seeking  him.  Then  I  gave  what 
money  I  had  (a  guinea  or  two  of  Eankeillor's),  so  that 
lie  should  not  starve  in  tlic  meanwhile  ;  and  then  we 
stood  a  space,  and  looked  over  at  Edinburgh  in  silence. 

"Well,  good-bye,"  said  Alan,  and  held  out  his  left 
hand. 

** Good-bye,"  said  I,  and  gave  the  hand  a  little  grasp, 
and  went  off  down  hill. 

Neither  one  of  us  looked  the  other  in  the  face,  nor  so 
long  as  he  was  in  my  view  did  I  take  one  back  glance  at 
the  friend  I  was  leaving.  But  as  I  went  on  my  way  to 
the  city,  I  felt  so  lost  and  lonesome,  that  I  could  have 
found  it  in  my  heart  to  sit  down  by  the  dyke,  and  cry 
and  weep  like  a  baby. 

It  was  coming  near  noon,  when  I  passed  in  by  the 
West  Kirk  and  the  Grassmarket  into  the  streets  of  the 
capital.  The  huge  height  of  the  buildings,  running  up 
to  ten  and  fifteen  storeys,  the  narrow  arched  entries  that 
continually  vomited  passengers,  the  wares  of  the  mer- 
chants in  their  windows,  the  hubbub  and  endless  stir, 
the  foul  smells  and  the  fine  clothes,  and  a  hundred  other 


324  KIDNAPPED. 

piirticiilars  too  small  to  mention,  struck  me  into  a  kind 
of  stupor  of  surprise,  so  that  I  let  the  crowd  carry  me 
to  and  fro  ;  and  yet  all  tlie  time  what  I  was  thinking 
of  was  Alan  at  Kest-and-be-Thankful  ;  and  all  the  time 
(although  you  would  think  I  would  not  choose  but  be 
delighted  with  these  braws  and  novelties)  there  was  a 
cold  gnawing  in  my  inside  like  a  remorse  for  something 
wrong. 

The  hand  of  Providence  brought  me  in  my  drifting 
to  the  very  doors  of  the  British  Linen  Conipan^^'s  bank. 

[Just  there,  with  his  hand  upon  his  fortune,  the 
present  editor  inclines  for  the  time  to  say  farewell  to 
David.  ITow  Alan  escaped,  and  what  was  done  about 
the  murder,  with  a  variety  of  other  delectable  particulars, 
may  be  some  day  set  forth.  That  is  a  thing,  however, 
that  hinges  on  the  public  fancy.  The  editor  has  a  great 
kindness  for  both  Alan  and  David,  and  would  gladly 
spend  much  of  his  life  in  their  society  ;  but  in  this  he 
may  find  himself  to  stand  alone.  In  the  fear  of  which, 
and  lest  any  one  should  com])lain  of  scurvy  usage,  he 
hastens  to  protest  that  all  went  well  with  both,  in  the 
limited  and  human  sense  of  the  word  "well;"  that 
whatever  befell  them,  it  was  not  dishonour,  and  what- 
ever failed  them,  they  were  not  found  wanting  to  them- 
selves.] 

END. 


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THE    LADY,    OR    THE    TIGER? 

AND     OTHER     S  T  O  1<  I  E  S. 

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CONTENTS: 

The  I.adv,  or  the  Tiger  ?  Ouk  Story. 

The  Tkansfekred  Ghost.  Mk.  Tol.man. 

The  Si'ECTRAL  Mortuaoe.  On  the  Training  of  Parents. 

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THAT    LASS    O'    LOWRIE'S. 

By  FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT. 

"The  publication  of  a  story  like  '  That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's'  is  a  red-letter  day  In 
the  world  of  literature." — Ne7u  i'en-k  Herald. 

"  We  know  of  no  more  powerful  work  from  a  woman's  hand  in  the  English 
language,  not  even  excepting  the  best  of  George  'E.WoV^."— Boston  Transcript. 

"The  best  original  novel  that  has  appeared  in  this  country  lor  many  years." — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

SAXE    HOLM  S    STORIES. 


First  Series. 

Draxy  Miller's  Dowry.  The  One-legged  Dancer.s. 

The  Elder's  Wife.  How  One  Woman  Kept  Her  Hiisrand. 

Whose  Wife  Vk-As  She?  Esther  Wynn's  Love-letters. 

Second  Series. 

A  Foir-leavei)  Clover.  My  Tourmaline. 

•    Farmer  Basseit's  Romance.  Joe  Hale's  Red  Stockings. 

Susan  Lawton's  Escape. 

"Whoever  Is  the  author,  she  is  certainly  entitled  to  the  high  credit  of  writing 
storiis  which  charm  by  their  sweetness,  impress  by  their  power,  and  hold  attention 
by  their  OT\^\nAV\\.y ."— Albany  Argus. 

"The  second  serie- of  '  Saxe  Holm's  Stories  '  well  sustains  the  interest  which 
has  made  the  name  of  the  author  a  subject  of  discussion  with  literary  gos-ips,  and 
won  the  adniiraiion  ol  intelligent  readers  lor  such  attractive  specimens  of  pure 
and  wholesome  fiction." — Neiv  Vork  'Tribune. 


POPULAR  BOOKS 

/;/  Yellow  Paper  Covers. 
Each   I   Vol.,   l2mo, 50  cents. 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  Publishers. 


THE  AMERICA'S  CUP! 

HOW   IT   WAS   WON   BY  THE  YACHT  AMERICA  IN  1851,  AND  HOW 
IT  HAS  BEEN  SINCE  DEFENDED. 

JIVTH  TU'EU-E  FULL  PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

By  Capt.  ROLAND  F.  COFFIN. 

"A  history  of  all  the  races  since  1851  for  the  possession  of  the  trophy,  the  embleo 
ol  the  yachting  supremacy  of  the  world— commonly  called  the  Queen's  Cup— with 
an  account  of  the  English  yachts  Gene^ta  and  Galatea,  entered  for  the  races 
sailed  in  September,  iSS,,  for  the  possession  of  this  most  coveted  prize.  Also 
descriptionsoftheyachts'Priscillaand  Puritan.  The  book  is  interesting  tothegen- 
eral  reader  who  wishes  to  keep  informed  upon  a  sport  so  fascinating  to  a  large 
class,  and  is  invaluable  to  the  yachtsman  on  account  of  the  completeness  and 
accuracy  of  its  information." — llas/u't^ftm  Post. 


AN  APACHE  CAMPAIGN 

IN  THE  SIERRA  MADRE. 

An  Account  of  the  Expedition  in  Pursuit  of  the  Hostile  Chiricahua  Apaches  in  the 
Spring  of  1883.     Illustrated. 

By  Capt.  JOHN  G.  BOURKE. 

"The  publication  of  this  book  is  of  timely  interest,  following  so  soon  upon  the 
lamented  death  of  Capt.  Emmet  Crawford,  who  was  conspicuous  in  the  campaigns 
described.  .  .  .  The  subject  is  one  of  importance,  and  Capt.  Bourke  speaks 
as  one  who  is  familiar  with  its  practical  branches."— .Via>  }'i>rk  Times. 


JOHN  BULL  AND  HIS  ISLAND. 

By  max  O'RELL. 

"Certainly  not  in  our  day  has  appeared  a  more  biting,  comprehensive  and 
clever  satire  than  this  anonymous  French  account  of  Engl.md.  .  .It  is  certainly 
not  to  be  wondered  that  the  volume  has  produced  a  profound  sensation  in  London  ; 
and  it  will  undoubtedly  be  widelv  read  in  this  country.  Enemies  of  England  will 
read  it  with  wicked  glee ;  her  friends  with  a  mi.xture  of  pride  and  humiliation ; 
nobody,  we  apprehend,  with  indifference." — Bostoti  Advertiser. 


THE  RUSSIANS  AT  THE  GATES  OF  HERAT. 

By  CHARLES  MARVIN, 

Principal  authority  of  the  English  press  on  the  Central  Asia  Dispute. 
ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  AXD  MAPS. 

"The  mo^t  important  contribution  to  a  complete  understanding  of  the  present 
quarrel  between  England  and  Ru^sia." — Xeiv  York  Trihine.  ^^ 

'•  Precisely  meets  the  public  want.  Th-:  sale  ought  to  reach  100,000  at  least.  '— 
New  York  Journal  of  Commerce. 


"  IVi!  kno7u  of  tto  more  powerful  work  from  a  woman's 
hand  in  the  Engli.h  language,  n- (  even  excepting  the  best  of 
George  Eliot's." — BosioN   Tkansckji'T. 


Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett's 

Novels. 

Uniform  Library  Edition. 


THAT  LASS  O'  LOIVR/E'S. 

One  volume,  i2mo,  extra  cloth         -  -        .        -         $1.25 

"  T/ie  best  original  no7'el  that  has  appeared  in  this  country 
for  many  years  y — I'uii..  Pkess. 

"  The  publication  of  a  stoty  like  '  That  Lass  o'  Lowrie^s'  is 
a  red-letter  day  in  the  -world  of  literature," — N.  Y.  Herald. 

*Wt  creates  a  sensation  among  bcok-readers," — Hartp'ORD 
Times. 

"  The  novel  is  one  of  the  very  best  of  recent  fictions,  and 
the  novelist  is  hereafter  a  person  of  rank  and  consideration  in 
tetters. '' —  H ARTKO k i )  Cou R a nt. 

"  The  story  is  one  of  mark,  and  let  none  of  our  readers  who 
enjoy  the  truest  artistic  ivork  overlook  it." — Congkegatio.n- 

ALIST. 

^  FAIR  BARBARIAN. 

One  v.Jume,  i2mo,  exira  cloth,        -         -         -         .         $1.25 

*'' The  brii>hlest  and  wittiest  of  Mrs.  Burnett's  stories." — 
Baltimouk  Evkky  Saiukday, 

*'Ifa  more  amusing  ot  cl  'I'er  novelette  than  'A  Fair  Bar- 
barian has  been  given  to  the  American  public,  we  fail  to  recall 
it." — Pittsburgh  Th.egraph. 

"/-/  particularly  sparkling  story,  the  subject  being  the  young 
heiress  of  a  Pacific  sii7'er-mine.  thrown  amid  the  very  proper 
p  ttv  aristf'cracv  of  an  English  rural  town," — SPRINGFIELD 

REPUHLICAN. 


MRS.   BURNETT'S   NOVELS. 

Through  One  ^/Idministration. 

One  volume,  1211.0,  extra  cloth,  "         ;         "     ,   '   .,,^^'^°, 

''As  a  study  of  Washington  life,  dealing  Urgely  with  what 
might  be  called  social  pohtics,  it  is  certainly  a  success.  As  a 
society  novel,  it  is  indeed  quite  perfect,  "-l  HE  Ckii  IC 

''  The  pathetic  femor  which  Mrs.  Burnett  showed  so  fully 
in  '  7 hat  Lass  o'  Lowrie's'  is  exhibited  in  many  a  touching 
scene  in  her  new  story,  i.hich  is  only  to  be  found  Jault  with 
because  it  is  too  touching." -\ .ONDON  Athen^um. 

LOUISIANA. 

One  volume,  1 2mo,  extra  cloth,         -         -         -         ".       %^'^S 

'M   delightful  little  story,  original  and  pu/uant  tn  design, 

and  carried  out  with  great  artistic  .X^V/.  "-Boston  Sat.  Lve. 

^  "  IVe  coTnmend  this  book  as  the  product  of  a  skillful  tal- 
ented, well-trained  pen.  Mrs.  Burnett's  admirers  are  already 
numbered  by  the  thousand,  and  every  n.w  work  like  this  one 
can  only  add  to  their  wMw/vr.'— Chicago  Tribune. 

HAIVORTH'S. 

One  volume,  1 2mo.  extra  cloth,         -         •         -         7        jM-25 
"  'Haworth's'  is  a  product  of  genius  of  a  very  high  order. 

— N.  Y.  Evening  Vo^t. 

''It  is  but  faint  praise  to  speak  of  '  Haworth  s    as  nicely  a 

good  novel.     It  is  one  of  the  few  great  „^w/.."-Har  1  FORD 

COURANT.  

SURLY  TIM 

AND    OTHKR    STORIES. 

One  volume,  i2mo.  extra  cloth,         -,''.,     '   ,  ^l/^A 
"Each  of  these  narratives  have  a  distinct  spirit,  and  can  be 

profitably  read  by  nil  classes  of  people.      They  are  told  not  only 

with  true  art  but  w'th  deep  pathos. "-V.OSAOii  I'OST. 

"  The  storiis  collected  in  the  present  volume  are  uncommonly 

vigorous  and  truthful  stori.s  of  human   nature.  -Chicago 

Tribune. 


Messrs.  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS  take 
pleasure  in  announcing  that  having  become  the 
publishers  of  all  of  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett's 
works,  they  have  begun  the  preparation  of  a  new,  uni- 
form library  edition.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  speak 
of  the  immense  popularity  of  Mrs.  Burnett's  writings, 
or  of  the  need  which  has  so  often  been  expressed 
of  her  books  in  a  form  suitable  for  preservation 
upon  the  library  shelves.  The  strength  and  power 
of  Joan  Lowrie,  "alike  womanly  and  alike  noble," 
the  charm  and  loveliness  of  Olivia  Bassett,  the 
"Fair  Barbarian,"  and  the  distinctness  and  indi- 
viduality of  all  of  Mrs.  Burnett's  creations,  ensure 
for  her  books  a  high  and  lasting  position  in  American 
fiction. 

In  a  critical  estimate  of  the  author's  books,  Mr. 
R.  H.  Stoddard  says  : 

"  She  discovert  gracious  secrets  in  rough  a7id  forbidding 
natures-  the      sweetness      that      often      underlies      their 

bitterness— the  soul  of  goodness  in  things  evil 

Mrs.  Burnett  seems  to  have  an  intuitive  perception  of 
character.  If  -we  apprehend  her  personages,  and  I  think 
•we  do  clearly,  it  is  not  because  she  describes  them  to  us, 
but  because  they  reveal  themseh'es  in  their  actions.  Mrs. 
Burnett's  characters  are  as  veritable  as  Thackeray's.'" 


New  Dollar  Novels 

PUBLISHED   BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


Ea^h  One  Volume,  i2mo  Cloth,         -        -        -         p.oo 


VALENTINO. 

By  IVILUAM  IVALDORF  ASTOR. 

Price  reduced  to  One  Dollar. 

A  romance  founded  upon  the  history  of  the  Borgia  family  in  the  early  pait 
of  the  Sixteenth  Century,  during  the  lifetime  of  I'ope  Alexander  VI. 
and  his  son  Cxsar  Borgia.  It  presents  a  remarkab  y  ca-efuUy  studied 
picture  of  those  stirring  times.  A  story  full  of  spirit  and  action. 
"  The  details  of  workmanship  are  excellent.  Mr.  Astor  writes,  appar- 
ently, out  of  a  full  mind  and  a  thoiough  interest  in  his  subject."— ^//aw/^V 
Monl/ily. 

'•  His  manner  is  dignified  and  his  English  pleasant  and  easy."— Bos/on 
Advertiser. 

"It  is  well  called  a  romance,  and  no  romance  indeed  could  be  more 
effective  than  the  extraordinary  extract  from  Italian  a  nals  which  it  preser  es 
in  such  vivid  colors."— A^.  Y.   Tribune. 

"A  signal  addition  to  the  really  superior  novels  of  the  season."— T/;,? 
Independent. 

"  One  cannot  read  far  in  '  Valentino  '  before  perceiving  that  Mr.  Astor 
has  written  a  very  creditable  roma  ce  in  the  historical  field,  and  one  that 
would  not  have  lacked  readers  had  the  name  been  left  off  the  tit'e."— iV.  Y. 
Times. 


SCJ^IBNEH'S    NEW   DOLLAR    NOVELS. 


THE    LAST   MEETING. 

By  BRANDEK  MATTHEIVS. 

Mr.  Matthews  combines  successfully  the  old  style  of  story,  full  of  plot,  and 
the  modern  more  subtle  methods.  The  motif  \%  most  original  and  clear, 
and  at  the  same  time  the  author  shows  an  uncommon  literary  dexterity. 
'1  he  scene  is  laid  in  New  York. 

*■  It  is  an  amusing  story  and  the  interest  is  carried  through  it  from 
beginning  to  end." — N.   Y.  Times. 

"A  wholesome  society  novel,  a  strikingly  dramatic  and  thrilling  tale, 
and  a  tender  love  story,  every  word  of  which  is  worth  reading." — Critic. 

"A  simple  but  ingenious  plot,  there  is  force  and  liveliness  to  the 
narrative,  and  the  pictures  of  New  York  social  life  are  done  by  one  '  to  the 
manner  born.'  " — Boston  Post. 

"A  clever  and  thoroughly  original  tale,  full  of  dramatic  situations,  and 
replete  with  some  new  and  most  expressive  Americanisms." — Literary 
World. 


WITHIN   THE   CAPES. 

By  HOWARD  PYLE, 

Author  of  "The   Merry  Adventures  of  Robin   Hood,"  etc.,  etc. 

Mr,  Pyle's  novel  is,  first  of  all,  an  absorbingly  interesting  one.  As  a  sea 
story,  pure  and  simple,  it  com|)ares  well  with  the  best  of  l.lak  Russell's 
tales,  but  it  is  much  more  ;  ihe  adventures  of  Tom  Granger,  the  hem,  are 
by  no  means  confined  to  sea  life.  Thouj,;h  never  sensational,  there  are 
plenty  of  exciting  incidents  and  ever  a  well-developed  mystery.  The 
plot  is  of  the  good  old-fashioned  thrilling  sort  and  the  style  strong  and 
vigorous. 

"Mr.  Pyle  proves  himself  a  master  of  nautical  technique  and  an 
accurate  observer.  .  .  .  His  style  is  good  and  fresh,  and  in  its  concise 
ness  resembles  that  of  Marryatt." — A'.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. 

"The  style  is  so  quaint,  so  felicitous,  so  quietly  humorous,  that  one 
mu-t  smile,  wonder  and  admire." — Hartford  Post, 


SCRTBNER'S   NEW   DOLLAR    NOVELS. 


A   WHEEL    OF    FIRE. 

By  ARLO  BATES. 

1  ■  e-.  iinimuallv  Strong  in  its  conception  that  it  makes  a 
^^-  Z%  ir;t;io:^on  this  accUt  aPone..    It  is  not  only  a  striking  .tory. 

but  I  toTd  with  remarkable  power  and  mtens.ty.  _ 

..A  very  powerful  performance,  not  only  original  in  its  conception,  but 
full  of  fine  literary  art."-C^^^^^^«'-^''«^^«^^""^ 

..  One  of  the  most  fascinating  stories  of  the  year.--a..,./«...-0-«. 

.'A  carefully  written  story  of  much  originality  and  possessing  great 

interest."— ^'''^<»«;'  ^''^«-^-  ,       , 

..The  plot  is  clearly  conceived  and  carefully  worked  out ;  the  ston^  rs 
.ell  toM  wth  something  of  humor,  and  with  a  skUlful  management  of 
dialogue  and  narrative. "-^r^  LuUnkan^^e. 

ROSES    OF   SHADOW. 

By  T.  K.  SULLIVAN. 

■     \  ^(  n.  tvnp  of  novel  that  has  been  growing  rare.     A 

.'The  characters  of  the  story  have  a  remarkable  vividness  and  md.v.d- 

(  ,h.m     which  mark  at  once  Mr.   Sullivan's  strongest 
ual.ty-every  one  o    them->.hich  mar^^  ^^^  ^^^^_^  ^^^^  ^^^  ^^^^^^^^^^ 

^ZtluiyroTerlhtgr-iml-y  ^atictic  old  beau,  sometimes  reminds  us  of  a 
.ouch  of  Thackeray. "-a««-««a//  Ttmes-S^ar. 

ACROSS    THE    CHASM. 

^  STORY  OF  NORTH  AND  SOUTH. 

A  novel  full  of  spirit  a^dwit  ^^^^^f "  ^^SS^Si^r^^^!:; 

..  A  story  which  will  at  once  attract  readers  by  its  original  and  stnkmg 
^^lities."— Journal  of  Commerce,  N.  Y. 


SCRIBNER'S    NEW    DOLLAR    NOVELS. 


"Nothing  can  be  more  freshly  and   prettily  written  than  the  last  few 
pages,  wlien  Louis  and  Margaret  meet  and  peace  is  made.      It  is  a  little  idyl 

of  its  kind 'Across  the  Chasm  '  not  being  an  impalpable  story, 

but  having  a  live  young  woman  and  a  live  man  in  its  pages,  deserves  hearty 
commendation." — A'.   Y.   Timts. 


A  DESPERATE  CHANCE. 

By  Lieut.  J.  D.J.  KELLEY,  U.S.N. 

"A  Desperate  Chance"  is  as  absorbing  as  only  a  novel  can  be  when  told 
with  the  vcrz'e  of  such  a  writer  as  Lieut.  Kelley.  It  is  a  fresh,  stirring  story, 
with  sufficient  adventure,  romance  and  mystery  to  keep  the  reader  absorbed. 
It  may  safely  be  said  that  if  the  tale  is  once  begun  it  will  be  finished  in  a 
continuous  reading,  and  we  think  of  it  as  one  of  the  stories  we  will  always 
remember  distinctly,  and  which  was  well  worth  the  reading. 

"A  stirring  sea  story." — N^ew   York  Star. 

"  Lieut.  J.  D.  J.  Kelley 's  novel,  'A  Desperate  Chance,'  is  of  the  good 
old-fashioned,  exciting  kind.  Though  it  is  a  sea  story,  all  the  action  is  not 
on  board  ship.  There  is  a  well-developed  mysterj',  and  while  it  is  in  no 
sense  sensational  readers  may  be  assured  that  they  will  not  be  tired  out  by 
analytical  descriptions,  nor  will  they  find  a  dull  page  from  first  to  last." — 
B'ooklyn  Union. 

"  'A  Desperate  Chance '  is  a  sea  story  of  the  best  sort.  It  possesses  the 
charm  and  interest  which  attach  us  to  sea  life,  but  it  does  not  bewilder  the 
reader  by  nautical  extremes,  which  none  but  a  professional  s-ailor  can  under- 
stand. 'A  Desperate  Chance'  reminds  us  of  Mr.  Clark  Russell's  stories, 
but  Lieut.  Kelley  avoids  the  professional  fault  into  which  Mr.  Russell  has 
fallen  so  often.  The  book  is  extraordinarily  interesting,  and  this  nowadays 
is  the  highest  commendation  a  novel  can  have." — Boston  Courier 


COLOR  STUDIES. 

By  T.  A.  JANyiEK  (Ivory  Black). 

A  series  of  most  delightful  pictures  of  artists'  life  in  New  York  which  first 
attracted  the  attention  of  readers  to  Mr.  Janvier  as  a  writer  of  very 
notable  short  stories.  Certainly  ameng  stories  dealing  with  artists'  sur- 
roundings there  have  never  been  written  better  tales  than  these  which 
are  collected  in  this  beautiful  little  volume. 

"  The  style  is  bright,  piquant  and  graphic,  and  the  ulots  are  full  o/ 
humor  and  originality," — Boston  Traveler. 

Charles   Scribner's   Sons. 

PUBLISHERS, 
7^5  &■  74^  Broadway,  New  York, 


Los  Angeles 
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